


Some Things Just Make Sense

by AxolotlQueen



Series: Striker Eureka Cafe [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Coffee Shops, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kid Chuck Hansen, M/M, Slow Build, Striker Eureka Cafe Verse, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:32:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 50,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxolotlQueen/pseuds/AxolotlQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Newt, in need of a caffeine fix, finds that his usual cafe is now employing an ex, he heads instead to the other local cafe, Striker Eureka's. The skinny, rude guy working at the counter catches his attention. But the only reason he goes back is because the coffee is really good. Really. That's the only reason....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Go Back To The Start

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory coffee shop fic that HAS TAKEN OVER MY LIFE
> 
> this chapter title is taken from The Scientist by Coldplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A (hopefully improved) rewrite of this and the next chapter can be found [here](http://tsunderescientists.tumblr.com/post/118069182881/stjms-ch-1).

September 26, 2012

The first time, it is six o’ clock and Newt has realized there is no way in hell he is finishing this paper tonight without some serious caffeine. He walks to the café on the corner, opens the door, and promptly walks back out without entering. Shit. 

There’s that girl - oh for fuck’s sake, he can’t even remember her name. But he is pretty sure he promised to call her back, and he didn’t. And she’s manning the counter. Dammit, does she work here? Son of a bitch. 

He stands on the corner for a moment, trying to force his caffeine-deprived brain to think. Isn’t there a little café a few blocks east? The one with the weird name, what was it…Eureka. Something Eureka. Yes, he can remember it now. He never went there before, but it’ll have to do.

It’s a little closer than he remembered, and the name is Striker Eureka. Seriously weird name.

It’s almost totally empty at this time, but fortunately still open. Closing in like half an hour. Thank fuck.

The bell tinkles spookily when he pushes the glass door open, and the guy sitting behind the counter looks up, a blatantly annoyed expression on his face. Newt adopts a rueful, apologetic smile, and walks up to the counter. The guy looks unimpressed. He sighs audibly, drops the worn notebook he was scribbling in, and stands up. His nametag reads “Gottlieb” in jagged letters. 

“How can I help you,” he says flatly in a crisp British accent. 

Newt looks up at the blackboard behind the counter, which is written over in chalk with the same handwriting as on the guy’s nametag. There are way too many choices for this level of tired. He looks back at Gottlieb, smiles wearily, and says, “Dude, just give me whatever has the most caffeine.” 

The guy chews on his lip for a second, then nods and announces a seemingly arbitrary price. It’s not ridiculous, and caffeine, so Newt just nods and hands him a crumpled five. He might be impressed with how quickly the guy counts out his change if he weren’t so tired. 

He drops into one of the comfy squashy armchairs scattered around the café, and dreamily watches as Gottlieb briskly prepares his drink. He moves with quick efficiency, and it’s oddly hypnotizing. Plus, he’s skinny as fuck, and his worn t-shirt clings tightly to his back, showing the shoulder blades moving under the skin. Which Newt appreciates.

He finishes, and turns around, catching Newt staring. He scowls at him suspiciously. Real friendly guy, Newt thinks. Gottlieb wordlessly claps the drink on the counter, and turns back to his notebook.

“You might want to consider your customer service,” Newt drawls at the guy’s narrow back as he picks up the drink. 

“Thanks, I’ll consider that,” he snaps, and Newt thinks that possibly he has never before heard a sentence more laden with sarcasm. He grins, and cheerily lifts the drink to him, before sauntering out. Possibly he hears the guy mutter “Go fuck yourself,” under his breath, but it’s hard to say for sure. 

It’s the most fucking delicious coffee he has ever drunk in his whole goddamn life.


	2. Numbers and Figures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck is a brat and Newt is an asshole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is _also_ taken from The Scientist by Coldplay  
>  (seriously I dare you to listen to that song and not think about these two)

October 6, 2012

The second time, it’s a Saturday, at two or three in the afternoon. Newt woke up a few hours ago, to discover there was no coffee left in his apartment - still. What’s-her-name, it turns out, is definitely working at the place on the corner, so he decides he’d prefer to have coffee guy be rude at him than have her shout at him. 

It of course has nothing to do with the guy’s cheekbones, and everything to do with that mind-blowingly good drink. 

Still, when he walks in and sees the tall red-haired man working the counter, he is just the tiniest bit disappointed. Sometimes he finds a bit of biting sarcasm to be bracing. 

The place is less empty than last time, but nowhere near busy. There’s no line at the counter. Newt is waiting for the man to finish his latte when he hears a boy’s voice, traced with an Australian accent, complain, “I’m never gonna get this! I hate math!”

The man behind the counter sighs.

“Do you hate baseball? Do you hate skateboarding, do you hate…I dunno, whatever daft sports you like, do you hate those? No? Then you don’t hate maths, because none of those would work without maths!” a sharp voice retorts. 

Newt glances around to try to locate the voices - ah, there they are, in the back corner, a blond scowling boy and a person facing away from him, and judging by the skinniness of that back, it is rude coffee guy.

“Here’s your coffee,” says the counter guy, and Newt notices now that he has an Australian accent too. Newt nods and takes it. He had been planning on leaving, but now he sits down inconspicuously in one of the armchairs, close enough to overhear the conversation.

It pays off. 

It seems like the boy is trying to do his homework, and rude coffee guy is helping him out. He is no less rude in his attempt to do math than he is in his making of coffee.

The boy is now saying “They don’t call it ‘maths’ in America, you know,” in that bossy, all knowing way that only ten year old's seem to be able to summon up.

“That’s great for them, but I’m not American, and for that matter, neither are you,” rude coffee guy - what was his name? - snaps back. “And don’t go off topic.” 

“ _You’re_ off topic.” Newt laughs silently at that one.

“Chuck,” the man behind the counter rumbles warningly.

They strap down after that, but it’s still funny to listen to, and still occasionally devolves into childish name calling. The coffee guy really shouldn't be tutoring kids. Or anyone. He’s impatient and pretentious by turns. Newt almost dies when he starts ranting about math being “as close as you get to god’s handwriting” or something like that. His ribs hurt from trying to laugh quietly. God, what a pretentious asshole. 

It turns out maybe he isn't laughing that softly, because rude coffee guy imperiously orders the kid to work on a problem alone, and then whips around and sends a full on death glare in Newt’s direction. He has an impressive bitch face. Newt is somewhat cowed, and attempts to look innocent and slightly confused, as if he doesn’t know what he has done to warrant such a murderous stare. Coffee guy is clearly unimpressed, narrows his eyes suspiciously at Newt, and then turns back to his pupil. Newt waits for a few seconds, to try and perpetuate the image that he was doing nothing wrong, and then casually strolls out. As soon as he has left the line of sight of the glass fronted café, he leans on a wall and howls with laughter. 

The coffee must have been a fluke, or because he was so tired last time, because, although it is good today, it isn’t killer like before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so like I just wanted to quickly address that no, Herman does not have his limp...YET  
> that's a super major part of his character and I would never want to remove that, but I have...plans. Plans that possibly might change. Plans that might not come into play for a while. But there are plans.  
> so...I hope that doesn't bother anyone? I'm not trying to erase that part of Hermann or anything, it just has to do with my headcanons about Hermann and my plot plans.  
> 


	3. He Looked Like He Was Barely Hanging On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psychosomatic is a thirteen letter word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from When The Day Met The Night by Panic! At the Disco

October 14, 2012

The third time is a Sunday. Sunday’s are always boring. Hermann objects to Sunday’s on a personal level. He’s working alone today - Herc took Chuck to the zoo, or, more accurately, Herc took Chuck to see the big animals that are capable of killing things, and also the kangaroos - and Hermann is amusing himself by attempting to calculate the difference between how quickly time is passing and how quickly time _feels_ like it’s passing, and what the relationship is, and if this is possibly a way to empirically determine a person’s level of boredom, when that guy walks in.

That rude fucking guy with the ridiculous hair and the hipster glasses and smug attitude.

He looks like hell. He’s clearly hung-over, and looks as if he would rather be dead. Plus, his shirt is on inside out. From his expression, the chalkboard is an insurmountable obstacle. He stares it at with blank horror for several moments, and then Hermann takes pity on him and says, “Hangover cure. 2.75.”

Possibly he doesn’t say it quite as quietly as he could. Maybe it wasn’t that pitying, to be honest.

The guy looks grateful though, once he’s done wincing. He digs blankly in his jean pockets, and pulls out a crumpled bill, and as he drops it in Hermann’s hand he says in a grand voice, “Keep the change.” 

Hermann stares at the wrinkled piece of paper. He has a temporary desire to laugh, but instead he snaps coldly, “This is only a dollar.” And then, because he’s still rather irritated about last time, he adds, “Are you trying to cheat me, or are you just that hung over? Or are you dumb?”

Hermann knows that when you’re cruel to someone you ought to feel guilty afterwards, but the glare on the guy’s face is so fucking satisfying that Hermann just can’t bring himself to feel bad. 

The other guy gives out a long-suffering sigh - his breath is awful - and roots around some more in his pocket to find the appropriate change, glaring at Hermann with bloodshot eyes the whole time. Hermann keeps his face icy and disapproving but is smirking inwardly. 

He slams another dollar and three quarters down on the counter - and Hermann obnoxiously counts it to make sure, and refuses to mourn the loss of any potential tip - and then wordlessly slouches off to collapse into one of the armchairs. 

He’s still sitting in the exact some pose when Hermann finishes his drink, staring blankly off into space. Hermann briskly calls out the drink order - twice - and it’s obvious the drink is not for the two other current inhabitants of the café, who have drinks already, but the guy doesn’t stir. So Hermann sighs as loudly as possible, then picks up the drink, slides out from behind the counter, and marches over to the guy.

“You know, coffee doesn’t actually do much for sobering you up,” he announces, thrusting the guy’s drink in his face. 

He starts obviously, staring for a moment at Hermann as if he hasn’t a clue who he is, and then his eyes settle on the coffee and he snatches it out of Hermann’s hands without so much as “thank you.” He sips it at greedily, and sighs gratefully.

“Psychosomatic,” he states, apropos of nothing. 

“I beg your pardon?”

The guy snorts sarcastically at that, and Hermann contemplates hitting him. Probably Herc wouldn’t tolerate such behavior, and Hermann was just lecturing Chuck the other day why violence isn’t the best solution to one’s problems, but it would be oh so satisfying. 

“Psychosomatic means that it’s all-“

“I know what psychosomatic means, thank you very much, it just seemed a little odd to suddenly exclaim ‘psychosomatic;’ perhaps what you meant was ‘thank you’.”

He sips his coffee thoughtfully, then drawls deliberately, “No, pretty sure I didn’t mean ‘ _thank you_.’ Can't think of a reason I would possibly say 'thank you.' Who here could I possibly thank?”

Hermann releases his breath in an angry huff, clenches his hands into fists, and snaps, “Well, with that, good-bye, I do hope you enjoy your psychosomatic cure; now I have to be going, I have much better things to do than this, such as literally anything else.” 

And Hermann would have walked away right then and not spared a second thought to this man and his ridiculous hair, when he hears the guy mutter under his breath, “What a rude dude."

Hm. No. No, that simply cannot be permitted. 

“I simply feel that being called rude, by you, is a bit of irony that I cannot allow to pass by. If you wish to call people rude in the future without it seeming intensely hypocritical, I would advise you to perhaps fetch your own drinks, and maybe try to be a little subtler when eavesdropping on people’s conversations, particularly if you intend to laugh at them as you do so.” 

This time he does walk away, trying to fake a calm pace, but really feeling quite sincerely angry. 

Really, why did he think a job that involved customer service would ever possibly be suitable for him? He does not, at this juncture, remind himself that he never thought that; he just had no other choice.


	4. So Strange and Likeable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axolotl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title from Back In Your Head by Tegan and Sara

October 17, 2012

Newt does, after all, feel guilty later. And he hates feeling guilty. He hates guilt and he hates apologies and he hates regret and really he hates anything that implies that he might have been wrong. He isn’t wrong. Ever. Everyone else is wrong, but not him.

Ok, but maybe he was a _little_ ruder than the guy deserved. 

So the fourth time, he shows up at a more normal time, and sober, and prepared to make nice. 

When he gets up to the counter, he smiles engagingly at Gottlieb, who scowls suspiciously and says, sounding displeased, “Oh, it’s you again.” So, still pissed then.

“Newt,” he responds, leaning on the counter. 

The guy stares at him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, looking as if Newt has just given him some sort of cryptic puzzle to unravel. Newt isn’t sure what he’s done to warrant such a reaction until Gottlieb ventures, “Axolotl?”

Newt blinks, wonders what the hell the guy is talking about, conjures the image of the small pale amphibian to mind, and then suddenly understands and bursts into startled laughter. Gottlieb tightens his lips and crosses his arms. He’s probably not the sort who likes being laughed at. 

“No, no, Newt is my _name_ ,” Newt explains through his laughter. 

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that, you just show up all the sudden and start naming amphibians, and I’m meant to understand it’s your name from that! Who’s named after an amphibian anyway!”

Newt manages to stop his laughter. “Ahaha, sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, sorry, that was just too funny.”

Gottlieb has the same murderous look on his face as last time, and Newt thinks to himself that this apology is not going well. 

“I’m glad I amuse you, now what the hel-“ He visibly cuts himself off here, glancing over to a corner where a blond boy is industriously drawing, takes a deep breath, and says, still through his teeth, but a little less deadly, “What would you like to order?” 

“Well, actually I- um.”

Shit, apologizing is hard. 

“What?” Gottlieb barks.

Newt really means to say, _I wanted to apologize_ , but instead what comes out is, “I wanted a tall iced coffee.”

Ok, but that’s like _really_ close, right? Almost the exact same thing. And, plus, it’s not like Gottlieb wasn’t a jerk too, because he totally was. Really, he ought to apologize too. And that’s probably never gonna happen, so why should Newt have to?

Gottlieb takes his money with icy politeness, and briskly turns away to begin preparing the drink. 

“Sooooo, you a student at PRU too?” Newt hears himself asking. Gottlieb goes all stiff, and he’s facing away from Newt, but Newt can just imagine the is-he-seriously-talking-to-me-right-now bitch face that must be being made. He’s actually kind of sad he can’t see it. It’s probably a great expression.

Gottlieb stays silent at first, and Newt is sure that the guy is considering giving him the cold shoulder, but instead he reluctantly answers, “Yes.” 

Not a lot to work with, but Newt can manage.

“Hey, me too!”

“Yes, I _did_ gather that.”

What- what the hell is that supposed to mean, what, just because Newt said “too” earlier or something? Fucking hell, this guy is a smart ass!

“Wow, you must be smart, some Sherlock Holmes shit over here,” he says sarcastically.

“It’s hardly a deduction; you’re wearing a t-shirt with the logo on it today.”

Oh.

“…so I am.” 

Gottlieb huffs out something that might be a laugh, and Newt has to laugh too. “I’m an idiot,” he admits, smiling.

“It’s important to be able to recognize that about yourself,” Gottlieb says virtuously, turning around at last, the drink in his hand. “Here’s your drink.”

“Thanks. Oh, um, sorry about being sort of a dick the other day.” It comes out so easily this time. He hadn’t even really meant to say it. 

Gottlieb shrugs his shoulders stiffly, twists his lips, then says, sounding as if every word is difficult, “I suppose I was rather rude too.” 

Newt grins at him. “Aw, did that hurt to admit?”

Gottlieb rolls his eyes epically. It is one of the most masterful eye-rolls Newt has ever seen. He is jealous of that eye-roll. A man could train for years to achieve an eye-roll that conveying of sarcasm and exasperation.

Also, shit, those eyelashes are _ridiculous_.

“Ok, ok, I’m done, I’m leaving, I’ll stop bothering you already, clearly you have very important work to do!” Newt laughs, and as Gottlieb glares at him - but, he thinks, a bit less murderously this time - he walks lightly out of the store, sipping at his coffee.

Seriously, what do they do at this place to make coffee like this, it’s fucking _amazing_.


	5. All Was Golden In The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any and all Game of Thrones references are mostly accidental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from When The Day Met The Night by Panic! At The Disco

October 22, 2012

The fifth time is the first time they meet outside of the cafe.

Autumn has definitely come, and Hermann is glaring balefully at the red and gold leaves that have begun to drift to the ground. Yes, it’s all very nice and pretty, but it also means that winter is coming, and winter means _cold_ , and Hermann hates the cold. His lips get chapped and his fingers ache and he shivers constantly, and there just aren’t enough layers in the world. 

But today, the sun is shining, and he has an hour between class and work, so he has commandeered a bench outside so as to take advantage of what might be the last warm sunlight before winter. And, well, the trees are kind of pretty. And the air does smell nice. 

At first he’s just leaning back on the cold bench, his spine digging painfully into the wood, staring distractedly at the sky but then suddenly he’s scrabbling in his bag, pulling out his worn notebook, the secret one, and a ball point pen, and writing quickly across the page.

It’s not that Hermann writes poetry. That would be ridiculous, and utterly sentimental, and Hermann doesn’t hold with that sort of thing.

But occasionally he gets…ideas. Words. Phrases. The world can be beautiful, maths is beautiful, and occasionally Hermann tries to express this in words instead of numbers.

But it’s not _poetry_.

Nonetheless, when someone unexpectedly sits next to him on the bench, Hermann goes stiff all over and slams the notebook shut faster than if it was porn. He’s so startled that the person’s words - ““Hey, are you allowed to leave Striker’s? I thought you lived there.” - don’t immediately register in his mind, and he’s about to tell whoever it is to screw off, until he looks into familiar smirking blue eyes.

“Oh, it’s you again,” Hermann says, keeping his tone disapproving, but relaxing slightly. 

“I told you my name,” the guy complains.

“I refuse to believe your parents named you after an amphibian,” Hermann declares, still smarting over the “axolotl” incident. 

Newt. Who on earth is named Newt? That is not a name for a human being. It’s probably some sort of stupid hipster nickname, his real name is probably something terribly boring like, like _Jon_ or something. 

The guy laughs at him. He does keep doing that. Hermann objects to it, but he does have a rather nice laugh. “Dude, they didn’t name me after the fucking reptile. It’s like the scientist!”

The _scientist_? When was the ever a scientist named Newt-

“ _Newton_ ,” Hermann says aloud. “Oh, I _see_ , that makes much more sense.”

Hermann hates to admit that he thinks that a rather cool name. Much better than _Hermann_ , to be honest. 

Newt is laughing again, but it doesn’t seem to be at Hermann this time. “Yeah, haven’t you ever heard of Isaac Axolotl?” he jokes. 

“Do be quiet, Newton,” he mutters, refusing to laugh. It’s not funny. 

The laughter does stop, to Hermann’s surprise. In fact, Newt looks rather dismayed. “You’re totally gonna call me Newton from now on, aren’t you.”

Hermann looks him over. Newt - _Newton_ is watching him ruefully, and it’s clear enough that he would prefer Hermann not call him that. So...

“Yes.”

“Goddammit,” Newt mutters. “Ok, fine, Gottlieb, but you have to tell me _your_ first name.”

“Why would I do that?”

“C’mon, you know my first name, I should get to know yours!”

“I don’t know your last name, and you don't know my first name, I think this way is fair.”

“I can’t just call you Gottlieb, that’s so weird.” 

“Why?” Hermann demands.

Newt sighs exaggeratedly, and rolls his eyes. “God, you’re difficult. Ok, fine, because there’s like this super famous scientist guy named Gottlieb, and if I call you Gottlieb too I’ll always think of him and get confused!”

Hermann isn’t aware how hard he has suddenly begun to clench his fists until his nails begin to hurt his palms. He loosens his hands with an effort. 

Maybe he should just get his last name changed. 

“Hermann,” he snaps, and he’s sure his voice and face must be odd, because Newt looks alarmed suddenly.

“Um, what?” Newt says, watching him carefully, as if he expects Hermann to suddenly whip out a knife or something.

Hermann makes an effort to arrange his face more normally. “That’s my name. Hermann.”

Newt’s face clears. “Oh, all right.” He sticks one hand out. “Nice to meet you, Hermann Gottlieb. I’m Axolotl Geiszler.” 

For some reason Hermann almost laughs this time. But it’s not funny. 

But it’s odd, because normally a mention of his father is enough to ruin his whole day, but he can already feel his bad mood clearing. He rolls his eyes and refuses to shake Newt’s hand. 

“So, Herm, wh-“

“It’s _Hermann_. Absolutely not Herm,” Hermann interrupts firmly. Herm is a ridiculous nickname, and one he has always hated. His older brother calls him that, usually right before making some horrendously condescending remark that is an insult disguised as a compliment. 

Dietrich is an asshole. 

Newt pouts - it’s not cute, not at all, definitely not cute - and says, “Aw, c’mon, Herm is-“

“I will put cyanide in your coffee,” Hermann states. 

Newt starts to laugh, then looks Hermann in the face, and there must be something convincing in his expression, because the laughter dies in his throat, and he mutters, “Ok, that’s a no to Herm.” 

Hermann smirks ever so slightly. Of course he would never actually murder someone, but…he could totally get his hands on cyanide.

The conversation falters for a moment, and they fall into one of those dead pauses of silence that always so alarm Hermann. What is one supposed to say here? Small talk is so impossibly difficult. Does one remark on the weather? But that’s so foolish, they’re both outside right now, Newt can see just as well as him that the weather is nice today. Or should he just stay silent, is the conversation over now, how is he supposed to _tell_? Is it strange if he says something or strange if he doesn’t? 

And normally Hermann, who is not overly fond of casual conversation or, well, _people_ , would stay quiet in the hope of indicating that he desires the conversation to end. Of course, if the other spoke to him he would respond - it’s rude not to. But he wouldn’t himself attempt to continue the conversation. But now he finds himself seeking for the words to extend this, and when Newt begins speaking again, he feels rather relieved.

He thinks that he will worry about why that is later. 

“So, what’s a Brit like you doing at an American school anyway?” 

“Well, this may come as a surprise to you, but I’m studying. I understand that is what people normally do at school. Perhaps you should try it?” Hermann responds, and then inwardly winces at himself. _Are you even capable of not being a sarcastic piece of shit?_ he asks himself. 

Newt laughs.

“Yeah, but studying seems so _hard_ ,” he complains.

Right, Newt also seems to be a sarcastic piece of shit, he remembers. That’s…sort or a relief. How nice to meet someone that’s almost as much of a smart ass as him.

He tells himself the warmth that is starting in his chest is just the sunlight finally taking affect, but that doesn’t explain why he says, without prompting, “I’ve actually been living in America for a while now, since high school.” 

The sunlight is just putting him in a good mood, he tells himself firmly. A good enough mood for him to almost laugh at bad jokes and say personal information about himself when normally it’s like pulling teeth to get him to even tell someone his birthday. Yes, just the warm light. 

But it’s not really that warm. 

“Oh, really?” Newt asks. “I guess that makes sense then…where did you move here from? You from London, or…actually, no, London is the only city that I know for sure is in England. Isn’t there one named like…Surrey or something? Isn’t that Harry Potter is from?”

Hermann almost laughs again, and definitely feels a trace of a smile on his face. How out of character for him. 

“I actually moved here from Germany,” he informs Newt. “Surrey is a county of England, not a city, but yes, that is where Harry Potter is from.”

“Dude, there’s…shit, where do I begin. First of all, it’s totally awesome that you know where Harry Potter is from, and now I totally know that you are a _nerd_. So, ha. Secondly,” and here he abruptly switches languages, “You’re from Germany? Me too! Are you a native? And, why do you have a British accent then?”

It’s been ages since Hermann has heard anyone speaking German outside of movies or awkward conversations with his sister. Newt has a good accent too; clearly fluent, not just the result of half-assed high school classes or so on. And that does explain the last name, but so many people in the US are the results of generations ago immigration that Hermann hadn’t assumed anything.

“Oh, you speak German!” he says, also in that language, and his pleasure is distinctly spilling into his voice. Newt looks delighted, which makes his eyes sparkle fascinatingly. “Yes, I am a native. I was born there. But, my mother was from England, so I spent a lot of time there as a child, and learned English from her, and that’s why I have a British accent. Where are you from in Germany? You speak it very well, did you live there a long time? Why are _you_ in America?”

Why is it so much easier to say things about himself and to ask questions about Newt in German than in English? (And is it really because of it being in German, or is it the way Newt’s eyes are shining and the way he is smiling?)

“Oh, that explains it. I was born in Berlin, but my father moved to America when I was five, so I grew up here after that. But we go back there a lot on holidays.” 

Hermann hasn’t gone back to Germany in nearly a year and a half now, and he hasn’t gone to England since he was fourteen. He misses them both. Especially British tea. 

Tea. Shit. What time is it?

He glances at his watch, and nearly has a heart-attack. He only has ten minutes until work starts, how is that _possible_? He had forty minutes left just five minutes ago, he would swear to it. 

“I have to go,” he says urgently, switching back to English without noticing. He hastily shoves his notebook - oh god that was sitting on his lap this entire time, how embarrassing - into his bag, and jumps to his feet, then glances at Newt with an apologetic expression. “I have work,” he explains, suddenly feeling awkward. 

“S’alright,” Newt says - even though Hermann never actually apologized. He stands too, and Hermann suddenly notices how much taller he is compared to Newt, even though Hermann is really only average height. Newt is tiny. “Actually, how about I walk with you? Coffee would be good right now.”

“Oh, sure,” Hermann, caught off guard, finds himself agreeing. 

So…Newt wants to keep talking to him? So, he’s been enjoying this conversation too?

 _I’m sure it’s just that Striker’s has good coffee_ , Hermann tells himself sternly. 

The walk to Striker’s passes quickly, the two of them chatting about school. Hermann finds out that Newt is also a grad-student, and in his second year too - he’s a little surprised, he would have guessed from Newt’s face that he was a first year, or even still a senior in undergrad, but it turns out a combination of a young face and skipping a year means that Newt is in the same grade as him and only about half a year younger. He’s a bio major - “You know, lizards and axolotls and so on,” he says with an innocent face - and Hermann tells him he’s a physics major, and then they argue about which is better. They’re at Striker’s quicker than Hermann would have expected, and not quite late, which is a relief, because Hermann hates to be late. 

Hermann makes Newt a seasonal drink, and he makes the most absurd sounds when he drinks it. Really, really indecent sounds, that make Hermann’s insides twist oddly. And not unpleasantly. Which he tries to not think about it.

After he leaves, Herc sidles over and says, in his typically calm voice, “You know, I don’t mind if you bring your boyfriend around, but you really ought to introduce him.”

To his embarrassment, Hermann can feel his face turn instantly scarlet. Goddamn pale skin. “He’s- he’s not my boyfriend,” Hermann insists. “He’s just…a friend.”

Herc nods in a politely disbelieving way, and Hermann wishes he wasn’t blushing quite so hard. Why is he blushing? It’s true. Newt is his friend.

And actually…Hermann doesn’t have many friends. He keeps to himself, and doesn’t make friends easily. He’s fine with that, but it’s still nice to meet someone new. A friend is good. 

He’s _just_ a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok and also shout out to whoever anonymously messaged me on tumblr and correctly called them Newtlieb, you're awesome.  
> and shout out to anyone who commented or messaged me, you are also awesome  
> ok and also shout out to anyone who read this at all, you are all awesome


	6. He Was Just Hanging Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from When The Day Met The Night by Panic! At The Disco  
> (I know I do this song a lot, but I love how it captures the feeling of first meeting a person and falling in love. Plus, Hermann is totally the moon and Newt the Sun. Also I just generally love this song. So.)

November 11, 2012

After that, Newt begins going to Striker’s with fair regularity. He finds that if he goes at a certain time in the afternoon, the store will be mostly empty, and is nice for doing homework. He and Hermann chat, which is mostly exchanging insults and arguing about whether physics or biology is more interesting. Hermann is like, scary smart. Maybe almost as smart as Newt, and Newt’s not really used to not being leagues ahead of everyone else in the room, and its…it’s nice. Their conversations get more and more intricate, and even though sometimes it devolves into the two of them loudly talking over each other, Newt finds himself looking forward to these conversations more than just about anything else in his life. 

It gets to the point where when Newt learns something new and interesting, he starts storing it away to tell Hermann. 

Hermann continues to make mind-blowingly coffee, and it’s definitely _him_ , not the coffee store, because on the times when Newt comes in that the red-haired man - his name is Herc Hansen, and he owns the store - is working, the coffee is simply good, not amazing.

Herc - he insists on being called Herc and not Mr. Hansen, and Hermann looks as if using that nickname physically pains him - is stoic, and kind of scary at first, but he’s a nice guy, and doesn’t seem to mind that Newt is always hanging around and distracting Hermann. When Newt witnesses Hermann come on inch away from completely tearing a -admittedly rude - customer apart, he finds himself wondering aloud why Herc would hire an unfriendly guy like Hermann. Hermann glares at him, and then reluctantly admits that Herc made a deal with him - tutor his son Chuck for cheap, and he would let the rude incidents slip, as long as there weren’t too many. So that’s what was up with Hermann and the blonde kid the second time Newt came here.

In fact, it’s because of Chuck that the eleventh time is important.

Newt is chilling in the café, reading a particularly knotty bit of text, and not getting far, when the door is flung open and Chuck races in, Herc not far behind, both grinning. Chuck is squeaking Hermann’s name over and over and frantically waving a piece of paper.

“Hermann! My math test! I got an A! An A! Perfect score, Hermann, I got a perfect score!” Chuck shouts triumphantly. 

Newt turns to look at Hermann, half-smiling at Chuck’s excitement. And Hermann’s face is- he looks sort of startled for a moment, and snatches the piece of paper from Chuck’s hand, scanning it carefully, and then he looks back at Chuck, and oh fuck.

That smile.

Hermann isn’t prone to smiling, or expressing happiness even, but Newt has gotten him to smirk and even laugh a bit in the past; that is not the same as the expression on his face now. He has one of those smiles that completely changes a person’s face, splitting across his face and making little laugh wrinkles near his eyes, totally lighting up his normally cold and distant face. 

And Newt knows that he is totally fucked. 

He thinks he might do _anything_ to see that smile again.


	7. I Just Think That We Get On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Tendo Choi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "We Get On" by Kate Nash  
> (okay yes I know I have weird/terrible taste in music)

November 12, 2012

“You’ve been weird lately and I demand to know why,” Tendo declares, materializing from nowhere and sitting down next to Newt. 

“Where’d you even come from?” Newt asks, looking up from the books which he had been pretending to study - as if he could possibly study with the memory of that stupid fucking smile in his head. 

“And by weird I mean weirder, because you’re always pretty weird.”

“ _You’re_ calling _me_ weird?” Newt scoffs. 

“So who is it? And how hot are they?” 

“It’s like we’re not even having the same conversation.”

“Do I know this person?”

“Dude.”

Tendo stares at him threateningly. “Don’t keep secrets from me Newt, I will hack the fuck out of your facebook and find out who it is _and_ publicly humiliate you.”

Newt sighs, and then mutters, against his better judgment, “He doesn’t have Facebook.”

“Ha!” Tendo shouts, as if he’s just won some great battle. 

A pretty girl two tables over glares at them and says, “We are in a library, you know,” but Tendo does that thing where he sort of winks at her and adjusts his bowtie and it should be creepy but instead she melts. Newt can’t blame her. He melted the first time Tendo did that to him too. 

“So, tell about this mysterious ‘him’ who has no Facebook. And, in this day and age, who the fuck doesn’t have Facebook?” Tendo asks when he’s done eye-fucking the girl.

Newt slumps so his chin is sitting on the table. “It’s not really anything, he’s just this guy…that works at a café, and…I dunno…he’s kind of a jerk, but like, he’s really smart, and funny, and his coffee is pretty good, and his cheekbones are like amazing, and he’s really smart, and, yeah, it’s, it’s totally whatever, yeah, dude, no big deal, whatever.”

Tendo is smirking at him now. “Awww,” he coos. “You’re _adorable_.”

Newt throws a scrap of paper at him, and it flutters tragically to the ground.

“Shut up.”

“So, how’s he in bed?”

“Jesus, Tendo-“

“Oh please, don’t get all moralizing on me now Newt. A gentleman may not kiss and tell, but _you_ are not a gentleman.”

Newt sighs again, then grins. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“So, spill.”

“I told you, it’s not really anything. I haven’t hooked up with him, we’re just friends.”

Tendo snorts, and says, “Yeah, and so are we, but-“ and then cuts himself off, and looks more closely at Newt, staring at him as if he’s suddenly sprouted a tentacle on his face. “Wait, are you serious? You haven’t slept with him?”

“What, so what?” Newt responds, suddenly uncomfortable under his friend’s gaze. He sits up again, and starts fiddling with the papers before him. “Hermann’s not really that kind of guy.”

Tendo has an expression on his face like a doctor about to deliver a fatal diagnosis, and he claps one hand on Newt’s shoulder, before declaring in a serious voice, “Newt, I hate to tell you this, but you’ve got…” he pauses dramatically here, “…a crush.”

“Omg, shut up.”

“A crush, on Hermann, the coffee shop guy, who is like, really smart.” He clutches at his chest and swoons.

“Was that supposed to sound like me, because that did not sound anything like me.”

“I can’t believe it, who is this mysterious man that stole away the cold heart of Newton Geiszler?”

“I don’t- my heart is not cold and no one stole it.”

“C’mon Newt, you’re pining over a guy you haven’t even fucked. That is a _crush_.”

“Is not.”

“You mentioned his _bone structure_ , like who even fucking does that. That is a crush.”

“N-“

“Shhh, just admit it.”

“Ten-“

“ _Shhhh._ ”

Newt scowls, squares his shoulders, then slumps over and says, “But he’s so fucking _cute_ , you should see him smile.”

“Newt has a cru~ush,” Tendo sang. 

“I do, it’s so lame, I have a major crush, but it’s- I’m pretty sure he doesn’t feel the same, so, really, just friends. Which is _fine_.”

“Wow, if you’re fine with just being friends then it must be a pretty serious crush,” Tendo observes, and Newt wants to say he doesn’t follow Tendo’s logic there, but he kind of does. 

“I must meet him,” Tendo announces abruptly.

“Wait, what?”

“I must meet this mysterious ‘Hermann’ that made my Newt’s heart go doki-doki.”

“I can’t believe you just said doki-doki, how are you even a real person, and also no.”

Tendo is completely undeterred, and Newt again admires his ability to only hear what he wants to hear out of a person. 

“You know what would be good right now? Coffee would be good.”

“You always think coffee would be good.”

“That’s because coffee is _always good_.”

“But-“

“If you don’t take me I’ll just go there alone and I’ll flirt with him and I’ll tell him horrible stories about you.”

“…ok, fine, let’s go.”


	8. Do You See My Problem If I Never Explain It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title comes from the song So Jealous by Tegan and Sara (I just had to)

November 12, 2012

The café seems to have been getting more popular lately, to the extent that today there is actually rather a crowd. Hermann knows he ought to be grateful that the store has been doing well, but he’s too busy feeling an increasing amount of stress from trying to cope with the crowds. He _knows_ that he is working quickly and efficiently, but that just doesn’t seem to be enough for some people. It gets to the point where he can feel the tension in his chest, and he finds himself thinking that if one more person is rude or condescending or indecisive, that he might scream at them. Having to pretend to be polite and friendly really does not help with the stress, particularly when someone insults him to his face and he just has to smile tightly at them and apologize, even though he didn’t do anything wrong.

There’s only a few things keeping him from snapping, and those are principally the warning looks that Herc keeps shooting in his direction, his rapidly filling tip jar, and reciting the Fibonacci sequence in his head. That one is an old trick - envisioning the spiral curling in his mind has always helped calm him.

Still, when he turns away to brew a drink and hears a voice at the counter loudly exclaim, “Can you _not_?” the only reason he doesn’t fucking murder the source is that when he turns back to the speaker he sees that it’s Newt, and also realizes that the remark wasn’t even addressed to Hermann. 

It’s absolutely ridiculous the way that seeing Newt makes his stress and anger instantly evaporate. Newt smiles at him, his blue eyes sparkling, and Hermann, who an instant ago was ready to commit murder, feels an answering smile blooming on his face. Newt has been slightly odd lately; he keeps staring at Hermann, and turning kind of pink, and today when Hermann smiles he turns red and ducks his eyes. What a strange guy. Hermann wonders what’s wrong with him, but it can’t kill the warmth he feels unspooling in his chest at the mere sight of Newt’s face. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Hermann says, and he’s aiming for the typically disapproving way he says that - and it has become a habit, greeting Newt with those words - but instead the words come out distinctly pleased.

And then he properly notices the guy that Newt’s remark was addressed to, and, just as irrationally and quickly as it appeared, the happiness freezes over and cracks apart. 

“Oh, this is Tendo, don’t trust anything he says, ok,” Newt says as introduction, scowling playfully at the guy, who is leaning on Newt’s shoulder and inspecting Hermann with a considering gaze. “Tendo, this is Hermann,” he concludes, as Hermann and Tendo eye each other. Tendo must be satisfied with what he sees, because he smirks and says simply, “Hi.”

He’s _leaning_ on Newt, and he’s actually slightly shorter than him, so this doesn’t look absolutely ridiculous, and he’s just fucking _leaning_ on Newt like with his whole fucking body and there is no reason for that to bother Hermann but it really fucking does. And he’s wearing a bowtie and suspenders and a tweed jacket and he should look utterly ridiculous, but he carries himself with such confidence that instead Hermann is aware that he is wearing a baggy jumper and worn jeans and he has a coffee stain on one cuff. His smile is perfectly charming and his dark eyes twinkle and he looks so very natural, leaning there against Newt, and Hermann hates him. Immediately, utterly, and irrationally, Hermann hates him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Hermann responds, and even he can hear how frigid his voice is. Newt’s smile fades. He looks at Hermann as if he’s trying to figure out what is wrong, and Hermann waits desperately for him to shove off the other guy, to create space between them, but he doesn’t. Hermann feels stupider by the second. God, of course Newt has a boyfriend, of course he has a boyfriend who is not ridiculously taller than him and who wears bowties and isn’t awkward as fuck and unforgivably cold and rude, of course, how absolutely unbearably _stupid_ of Hermann to not realize that. Stupid, stupid, how is it possible that someone as stupid as Hermann even exists?

The silence is starting to stretch, and Hermann realizes he is probably supposed to say something here, instead of just staring icily at them - Newt is looking increasingly alarmed, and _Tendo_ has raised his eyebrows curiously - and he feels even more moronic, but he cannot think of anything to say other than _why didn’t you fucking tell me_. Which is foolish, of course, it’s not as if one is required to go around informing everyone that they have a cool hipster boyfriend, and, really, who is Hermann to Newt anyway that Newt should tell him? They’ve known each other only slightly more than a month, they chat a little every few days…that’s barely friendship, why would Newt possibly tell him? But still, you expect it would have come up in conversation once or twice…

“Hermann, are y-“

He suddenly cannot possibly bear to have anything even approaching a conversation, and is painfully grateful for the lines. Before Newt can even finish his sentence - which Hermann suspects is inquiring why he’s suddenly frozen into a glaring robot - he interrupts, “Look, it’s rather busy today, can you just order already?”

The words come out even ruder and colder than he meant, and when he sees the way Newt draws back, a surprised flicker of pain crossing his face, he hates himself. Why can’t he ever be _normal_? Why is he being like this, so Newt has a boyfriend, so fucking what? He thinks he should apologize, but the words die somewhere in the ice that has collected in his throat, and instead he clenches his hands into fists and refuses to meet Newt’s eyes. 

Newt stares at him a moment longer, then orders - for both of them - irritation bubbling under the words. Hermann takes his money without a word, and then turns his back on them both. It’s a relief to not look at the perfect picture formed by the couple, but he can feel Newt glaring daggers at him, and now he’s imagining Newt rolling his eyes at Tendo, probably wandering off across the room and apologizing for how much of a jerk his weird acquaintance is, Newt only puts up with him for the coffee, babe. He probably calls Tendo babe. Newt seems like the sort of person who would call his date babe, with a fond smile, warmth in his voice, and Hermann imagines Tendo basking in that warmth, and feels as if he has swallowed a snake that is biting at his intestines and lungs and heart. 

God, what the fuck is _wrong_ with him?

There’s a brief moment where he envisions purposely fucking up Tendo’s drink, and then is horrified at himself. Instead, he takes extra care making his drink. On the other hand, he puts no effort into Newt’s drink. When he’s done with the two, he places them on the counter, with exaggerated care, because he can feel himself wanting to slam them, and the last time he did that the drink spilled, and had been scolded by the customer, and by Herc, and had the drink price taken out of his wage, _and_ had to clean it up. Tempting as it is to slam the cups of customers that irritate him, it simply isn’t worth it. He takes a deep breath and then calls out Newt’s name, and he’s trying to just be emotionless but instead it comes out just as coldly as his previous words. Fuck, he hates when he sounds like this, it’s way too close to how his father used to sound when Hermann disappointed him - which was most of the time.

He locks eyes with Newt for a brief second as the other turns at the sound of his voice. Newt looks pissed, and Hermann isn’t sure what his own face looks like, but probably nothing good. Newt starts to walk toward him, clearly about to interrogate Hermann. And Hermann thinks he could probably just say sorry in a bright voice and that Newt would let it go, and Newt would probably wait for his next break, and then he could sit and chat about stupid shit with Newt…and _Tendo_. It’d be so nice, they’d probably hold hands and tell Hermann cute stories about how they met, and it would probably be a rivetingly interesting story, and they’d be adorable and finish each other’s sentences. 

Hermann deliberately turns away and takes the order of the next customer. When he next allows himself to look up, Newt and _Tendo_ are gone. 

The rest of his shift is a vague sort of blur, and he mechanically serves coffee, doesn’t shout at anyone, pretends not to notice Herc eying him up sympathetically - so that was as bad as it seemed, oh good - and feels mind-numbingly stupid. When he is at least free to go, he is so bone-deep tired that the thought of walking home makes him want to lie down and cry, even though he only lives about fifteen minutes away and normally enjoys the walk. He steps outside into a cold wind, and thinks, _of course_. It’s that sort of day. 

He spends the first part of the walk trying to not think of Newt and _Tendo_ \- and every time he thinks that name he finds himself hearing the affection in Newt’s voice when he introduced the man to Hermann - and failing utterly at that. In fact, he obsesses over it. 

Why is he being like this?

He is trying to avoid answering that question, but it pursues him all the way home, finally catching him as he struggles with the front door of his apartment building - the lock sticks today, of course it does, and he has to fight with it for a solid ten minutes - and he can deny it no longer. 

So maybe he liked Newt as a little more than a friend. Maybe he kind of likes Newt…a lot. More than he has liked anyone in - god, it’s been ages since he’s been interested in anyone, and, well, has he ever liked anyone as much as he likes Newt? Newt is funny, and interesting, and _smart_ , probably one of the smartest people he’s ever met, and makes stupid jokes about axolotls, and he’s really stuck up about music, and he wants tattoos, and he has tiny little freckles and stupid hair and his glasses make his eyes look big, and _fuck_. The door gives at last, opening suddenly so that Hermann practically falls into the building. 

He stands in the doorway for a moment, staring unseeingly at the stairs. He…he likes being friends with Newt. He likes that a lot. They argue all the time, but Hermann _likes_ arguing, and Newt actually can keep up with him, and he doesn’t seem to mind arguing back - in fact, Hermann had been suspecting that Newt enjoyed it too. He likes being friends with Newt, and he doesn’t have many friends these days, but he wanted to be more than that. He did, he had wanted that, he had been wanting that, probably ever since that day on the bench a few weeks ago. But that clearly isn’t going to happen.

Hermann sighs, and forces himself to start climbing the stairs. Friendship is good, he tells himself. In fact, he ought to be grateful for even that. He doesn’t have many friendships these days…he doesn’t have many relationships of any kind. He is suddenly forcibly aware that his life is kind of bare of human interaction outside of the customers at Striker. He’s actually quite lonely these days…with another stab of anger he thinks that he never noticed that before Newt. But it fades quickly. By the time he has at least reached his tiny apartment, he has concluded that he values friendship from Newt just as much as anything more than that. Actually, he reasons, friendship is better. Far more lasting. None of that silly drama or tension. Or sex. He forces that last thought away quickly. 

The conclusion of all this thinking is a decision that next time he sees Newt he will act like a normal human being - or as close to that as he is capable - and apologize for his unfriendly behavior today. This decided, he collapses face down on his bed, and falls asleep without bothering to change his clothes or brush his teeth. 

Well, maybe _apologizing_ is a little strong, is his last hazy thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my first draft of this chapter, Tendo was whispering obnoxiously in Newt's ear the whole time they were in line. This is what he was saying:  
> “Mm, those are some hella sharp cheekbones.”  
> “Oh, I didn’t know you went for the skinny boys Newt.”  
> “C’mon, lemme see dat ass…”  
> And that's why Newt snapped "Can you not?"


	9. Understanding You Is Making Me Not Want To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings.  
> Because they are _idiots_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this title is from Pumpkin Soup by Kate Nash

November 13, 2012

Newt storms into Striker’s the next day determined to extract an explanation _and_ an apology from Hermann. What the fuck had been wrong with him yesterday? Hermann can deny it all he likes - and Newt is fully expecting him to do so - but he was weird. And rude. It was like he was trying to pretend he didn’t know who Newt was - no, worse than that, because he wouldn’t act that coldly to someone he didn’t know. And in front of Newt’s friend too! Tendo was fairly unflappable, so he didn’t mind that much, but he did proceed to tease Newt about falling for a human icicle. 

Which just wasn’t fair, because, yeah, Hermann could be kind of…yeah, cold was the word, especially at first, but once you got to know him he was actually really nice, and warm, and funny, and, and, _awesome_. And Newt had wanted Tendo to see that. 

And instead, there was whatever the hell that had been. 

Plus, yesterday Newt’s coffee had been really bland. Newt isn't sure how related that is.

So Newt aggressively opens the door, the musical sound of the bell undercutting the drama of the moment. He strides in, bracing himself for the same frozen treatment as yesterday, and thus is kind of thrown off when Hermann immediately greets him.

“Oh, h-hey,” Newt stammers out lamely, stopping awkwardly in the doorway, even more confused by Hermann’s behavior than he had been. Hermann looks at him with raised eyebrows, and Newt pulls himself back together, moving out of the doorway to the counter. He plants a menacing scowl on his face. At least, he hopes its menacing. “Dude, what he fuck was that yesterday?” he snarls, keeping his voice low out of consideration of the other customers - he may be angry, but he doesn’t want to get Hermann in trouble. 

Hermann surprises him again, and, instead of denying that anything weird happened yesterday, sighs, and looking down at his hands, says, “It was really busy yesterday, I was tired and stressed; I suppose I must have come out quite rude.”

Newt is startled enough by this admission that he responds, “Oh, I guess that makes sense…”

Only, it doesn’t really. Because, if it was just stress, why did he smile when he first saw Newt? He vividly remembers that smile, it was such an unexpectedly cute expression that there was no way he couldn’t have noticed it. He smiled, and then he went all Winterfell. And why won’t he meet Newt’s eyes right now? It just feels… _weird_ all the sudden. Seriously weird. 

“Do you want a drink?” Hermann asks abruptly, his tone strangely…polite. He still is looking at the counter.

“Uh, oh, yeah, just like a coffee or whatever,” Newt responds, the weird vibe between them affecting him enough that he speaks rather hesitantly. Hermann nods and takes his money - and it’s just Newt’s imagination that he avoids touching Newt’s hand…right?

Newt watches him brew the coffee, his mind running in all sorts of directions. What is going on? This is weird, right, this is totally weird right now, what is wrong with Hermann? Is he sick or something? Or maybe it was something Newt-

Newt’s brain screeches to a halt and focuses on this particular train of thought. Did he do something wrong? Did he upset Hermann somehow? He desperately scrabbles through his last few conversations with Hermann, trying to figure out what it could be. Nothing immediately springs to mind. There was nothing special about these last few times, nothing had changed except-

OhmygodohmygodohmygodohmyGOD.

Nothing had changed except Newt’s _feelings_ , those had changed, he had started to… _like_ Hermann or whatever, and oh shitshitshit, maybe Hermann noticed?? Newt had thought he was being subtle, he hadn’t decided what he wanted to do about it yet so he was trying to hide it, but maybe, maybe he was being super obvious or something, Hermann probably noticed and thought it was _gross_ or something, and that was why he was acting so weird! Fuck, _fuck_ , he probably was shocked and so acted like that instinctually, and _now_ he’s being sort of nice because he doesn’t want to hurt Newt’s feelings when he _rejects_ him, oh goddammit, _shit_.

 _FUCK_.

Newt is lost in these horrifying thoughts, frozen before the counter, and almost doesn’t notice Hermann handing him his drink. One look at Hermann is enough to convince him that he is right. Hermann still won’t meet his eyes, and definitely hands him his drink in such a way as to avoid touching him. 

He has to fix this, there has to be a way to fix this, but his thoughts are scattering and unhelpful, and all he can think is that he’s ruined everything. His heart is twisting in his chest, like a live wire is wrapped around it and being pulled from either end. His eyes prickle uncomfortably for a second, until he forces himself to take a deep breath. 

He can fix this. He can explain to Hermann that it’s totally not a big deal, it’s just a dumb little crush, and it’ll be gone in like five seconds, and that Hermann shouldn’t worry about it, he shouldn’t even think about it, and that they should totally stay friends because Newt is just being an idiot and will _stop_ that as soon as possible, or actually, no, what he’ll do is lie and make it super clear that he does not have a _crush_ on Hermann, haha, don’t be silly Hermann. Newt is about to say this, except hopefully in a less awkward way, but really he's so panicked right now that it’s hard to predict what will come out of his mouth, when the bell over the door twinkles happily. Chuck and Herc walk in, and Newt recalls abruptly that today is one of the days when Hermann tutors Chuck. 

“Were you about to say something, Newt?” Hermann asks, after the initial round of greetings have passed between him and the Hansens.

“What? Oh, nope!” Newt says, a little too cheerfully. Shit, the things he nearly said…

Hermann must pick up on the forced cheer in his voice, because he finally looks Newt in the face. Newt tries to smile normally, but judging from Hermann’s small, concerned frown, he doesn’t really succeed. “Is something wr-“ Hermann starts to inquire, but Newt cuts him off hastily. 

“You seem busy, and I have a lot of homework today, so I think I’m just gonna bail,” he says, then tacks on, “Bye!” and quickly exits before Hermann can ask him anymore questions. 

He walks home blindly, thinking _fuck_ the whole way there. _Fuck. Fuck, I fucked up, fuck._

But fuck, he almost announced to Hermann, “Don’t worry, I don’t have a raging crush on you!” Seriously, what an idiotic fucking move that would have been. Thank god the Hansens interrupted him enough for him to come back to his sense. He could have made things so much worse. At least right now Hermann has no way of knowing for sure how Newt feels about him. If Newt plays it cool the next few times they meet, he can probably convince Hermann that he was just imagining things, and hopefully everything will go back to normal. It’s way better to just act like there’s nothing wrong at all, everything will be _fine_ like that.

Ok, not fine, because the thought of Newt having a crush on Hermann was apparently so disturbing to Hermann that he couldn’t talk or even look at Newt after figuring it out, and that is, um, yeah, _ouch_. If he lets himself think of the rejection that was implicit in yesterday’s behavior, the live wire wrapped around his heart jolts at him so he can’t breathe for a second. But if Newt just doesn’t think about it, then it’s okay. 

Really, it was just a stupid crush, and he hadn’t even decided if he wanted to ask Hermann out yet or anything, so this isn’t a big deal. If you think about it, it’s actually good that he figured out Hermann wasn’t interested in him before it went any further. He could have totally fucked up a pretty enjoyable friendship, and that would have been hella lame. This is probably way better. 

Yeah. Better.


	10. I Didn't Know Where This Was Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title from Whod Have Known by Lily Allen

November 11, 2012

Newt has been cooped up all day in his apartment studying, so focused that it’s a surprise when he looks up and realizes that it’s the evening and he hasn’t left his apartment once today. Once he becomes aware of how long he’s been sitting in the same spot, he is suddenly so restless that he can hardly bear to stay inside any longer. So, he decides to go for a walk. 

It’s brisk but beautiful outside. The sun has just set, and the mass of clouds that have been sitting ominously in the sky all day have become a glorious smear of reds and pinks and oranges on the horizon. The wind slaps cold air in his face, smelling like rain and the oncoming winter, but he finds it refreshing. His jitters are quickly breathed out into the sharp fall air, and calm quickly steals into him along with a chill. He’s been walking aimlessly, and he’s starting to think of turning around again and making his way home when he sees a familiar, thin figure struggling with several grocery bags in front of him. 

It’s been awkward enough lately that he hesitates before approaching him. He’s been trying to act as normal as possible around Hermann, but it’s stupidly hard to remember what ‘normal’ is, and, as Tendo unhelpfully pointed out, Newt isn’t that normal at the best of times. And, well, it might be Newt’s imagination, but he’s pretty sure that Hermann has been acting kind of weird too. He seems sort of awkward, and…it’s like he’s distancing himself from Newt. And it’s all just really fucking lame. 

But he reminds himself that last time he visited Striker’s, after a few minutes of forced conversation, things had started to loosen up, and that they had both been almost back to whatever approximates ordinary for the two of them. _Plus_ , he thinks bracingly, _when have you ever let a bit of awkwardness get in your way?_ Plus plus, Hermann is hella skinny and those bags look heavy and Newt doesn’t want him to like snap in half or something. 

Ok, and plus plus plus, he misses Hermann way more than should be possible for someone he’s only known for, what, two months? God, how has it only been two months?

So, he increases his walking pace and sidles up behind Hermann, and then leans in close and says “Hey!” loudly. Hermann visibly jumps, nearly drops his bags, and swears impressively. 

“Let me help you with that,” Newt giggles, and grabs a bag out of each hand. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Hermann says darkly. This is the first time he’s used that particular greeting since things got weird, and Newt feels a stupid little flush of warmth run through him. _Stop that_ , he tells himself sternly. “I don’t need your help,” Hermann adds, sounding short-tempered, and Newt laughs.

“Noo, of course not,” he agrees. “I’m sure nearly falling over was your intention.”

“I wasn’t going to fall,” Hermann snaps. He seems to be about to add something else when a huge raindrop lands on his face. Within seconds, frigid rain is sluicing down in sheets, soaking the two in instants.

“Oh goddammit!” Hermann shouts at the sky, and Newt would laugh if his teeth hadn’t already started to chatter. “That has been my fucking day,” Hermann snarls. “Come on, my apartment isn’t far from here.” The two begin to run through the icy rain, the bags slapping against their legs. 

Hermann was fortunately not exaggerating when he said his home was close, and within five minutes he has stopped in front of an old, crumbling apartment building. He fumbles with his key, swearing softly, his hands shaking from the cold, muttering “please don’t jam come on don’t jam,” and then “yes!” as the door swings open onto a cold, ill-lit hallway. Newt follows him up a rickety staircase, peering through rain smeared glasses to try and see where his next step is. It’s nearly as hard to see as if he wasn’t wearing any lenses at all. Maybe he should just give in already and get contacts. 

Finally, at the fourth floor - and Newt is glad he’s in good shape, or else this climb might kill him, particularly hauling along Hermann’s bags - they exit the stair case, walking partway down the hall before stopping and waiting as Hermann fights with his keys at another door. He gets this one quickly, although he has to put his shoulder into it to get the door to open - “sorry, it always sticks” - and then they are in his apartment.

It’s one of those apartments that are almost all one room. A tiny kitchen opens out into a small living area that is inhabited by a worn couch and a small, low table, and the far wall of this room has two doors, presumably leading to a bathroom and bedroom. Hermann dumps his bags onto the tiny kitchen, Newt following suit. 

“Terribly sorry about this,” Hermann apologizes stiffly, pushing his hands through his sodden hair. Newt squints at him through his glasses, but can hardly see him. He tries to wipe them on his shirt, which is fortunately still dry under his jacket, but it mostly just creates blurry streaks. Well, better than nothing. He can at least see now. 

“It’s fine. Not your fault.” 

Hermann is moving quickly around the kitchen, and Newt realizes he is putting a kettle on the stove. He grins - how terribly British. But also, he is kind of freezing, so tea sounds really good. Once the tea starts brewing, Hermann vanishes into one of the other rooms, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll get you a towel.” 

Newt stays standing in the kitchen, dripping awkwardly on the tiled floor, taking advantage of this chance to check out Hermann’s apartment.

It both is and isn’t what he would have expected. Mostly, he would have been expecting it to be utterly Spartan, totally clean and organized, with nothing unnecessary. This is only semi- accurate. At first, it looks much messier than he would have expected - the white walls are covered with papers and posters, except for one that is totally covered with a white sheet of paper that has been scribbled on in handwriting that is much messier than the writing on the board at Striker’s, but is still recognizably Hermann’s. There are stacks of books everywhere, and a laptop sitting open on the table, and what appears to be a half-completed model of an airplane. He smiles at the sight of this last one.

But when Newt looks at it closer, he feels sure that it is perfectly organized in some fashion that probably only makes sense to Hermann, and that everything is exactly where it’s meant to be. The posters are pinned up all in line, the books are in neat stacks - and considering the lack of bookshelves, these stacks might be more from necessity than any messiness. And despite the amount of objects strewn around the room, it lacks the sense of chaos that is so apparent in Newt’s own apartment. 

Something else that is noticeably lacking is photographs. There are no photographs of Hermann or anyone else, no family pictures; in fact, there is hardly anything personal or sentimental in the apartment. Of course, Newt can’t see Hermann’s bedroom, but he bets it would be the same. For the first time, he wonders what Hermann’s family is like.

As the kettle starts to scream, Hermann emerges from beyond one of the closed doors, revealing a brief glimpse of a bed. Newt tries really hard to not think about that. Hermann is wearing dry clothes now, and his short hair is sticking up messily, clearly just dried. And wow. He is not making it easy to not think of that bed, not with his hair all messy and in that ragged t-shirt and jeans that are riding down just a little to reveal the tops of pale angular hipbones. He should probably not think about those, but surely just _looking_ can’t hurt, right?

But he definitely must be paying way too much attention to those hipbones, because when Hermann tosses a bundle of fabric at him, it slaps him in the face and lands on the ground without Newt even moving to catch it. 

Hermann looks at him oddly, and then shrugs as if to say, _well it is Newt_ , and walks over to the kettle, saying, “I thought you might want to change out of your wet pants. Mine might be a bit long for you, but it’s better than nothing…and there’s a towel there too. The bathroom is the second door.” 

“Are you trying to imply I am short, Hermann?” Newt asks with fake indignation as he bends over to pick up the pants and towel lying crumpled at his feet. 

“I wasn’t,” Hermann responds, and Newt starts to say “Good,” but Hermann continues, “There’s no need to imply it. It’s obvious to anyone that looks at you.” 

Newt gasps dramatically. “How very _dare_ you.” 

He nearly dies when Hermann deadpans, “I ain’t even bovvered.” He’s still laughing when he emerges from the bathroom - which is incredibly neat and bare, especially when he considers the mess of toothpaste and hair product that is his own bathroom - his hair toweled dry, and wearing Hermann’s pants, which are indeed long enough that he has to roll up the cuffs. Hermann hands him a cup of tea, a faint smile on his face. 

“Thanks for helping me.” 

Tea has never been Newt’s, well, cup of tea, but this is really delicious, and warms him up.

“Dude, how are you so fucking good at making tea and coffee? That is such an unexpected talent for someone like you.” 

Hermann shrugs. “Is it though? There’s a sort of science to it, you know; it’s all about figuring out the right proportions and temperatures to get the maximal amount of enjoyment for the highest percentage of customers. It didn’t take me long to figure out. It’s math, really.” 

It seems so obvious said like that. And that sort of logic, it’s really just so _Hermann_ , that Newt finds himself smiling down at the tea. “You’re awesome,” he remarks, and then suddenly remembers he is trying to not act weird, and wow, that came out sounding all gooey and warm and weird. He looks up, ready to try and hastily clarify that he meant the tea, the tea is awesome, that’s all, it’s not that Hermann is brilliant and awesome, but then- 

Hermann is silently staring at him, with this really weird look on his face. His eyes are wide, lips slightly parted, color rising in his pale cheeks. Newt is instantly sure that he heard all the meaning that was contained in those two words, but he doesn’t look like Newt would have expected, he doesn’t look repulsed at all. Instead, he looks like he wants to say something…or maybe _do_ something? Newt is suddenly aware how close the two of them are standing, and it feels like the live wire from that day at the café is back, only now, instead of shocking at his heart, it’s spitting sparks between the two of them. He can’t stop thinking about how it would only take one step to bridge the remaining step between the two of them, and if only one of them would take that step-

Instead, Hermann looks away abruptly, and mumbles in a rough voice, “It’s not that complicated,” and the moment is gone. His face going red, he hurriedly walks back to the kitchen and starts to put away his groceries, the plastic bags crinkling loudly. Newt stares blindly after him, feeling as if the real world has risen up and smashed him in the face.

 _What the_ fuck _was that?_ he thinks, but all he says is, “Hermann-“ It’s probably good that he has no idea of what to follow that up with, because Hermann cuts him off before he can say anything else, and it’s clear that he is trying to pretend that nothing happened.

“Feel free to stay until it stops raining or you’re warmed up.”

Maybe nothing _did_ happen. Maybe that was all totally in Newt’s head - but then he thinks of that expression on Hermann’s face, he was looking at Newt as if there was nothing else in the world, and there was no way a face like that was nothing. But shit, what was it? 

Newt abruptly remembers the tea still in his hand, and takes a gulp without really tasting it. 

Ok, think it through logically. So, the base assumption was that Hermann was not interested in Newt - was, in fact, put off by the idea of Newt being into Hermann. But, the incident of a moment prior seems to contradict that assumption. Hermann’s behavior was not that of a person being approached by someone they did not care for - he looked pretty damn turned on, in fact. On the other hand, he was the one that ended the moment of tension, he was the one that stepped away and put distance between the two of them. So that seems to contradict him not being not interested in Newt, and ok this is getting confusing. 

He knows he should probably just ask Hermann. He almost says it, the words are on the tip of his tongue, and normally he isn’t good at stopping himself from saying whatever dumb shit comes into his head, but today he imagines Hermann turning around and coldly informing him that no, he is not interested in Newt, not at all, and would Newt please stop hitting on him and coming around so much? It’s really easy to imagine, he can hear the exact icy, disapproving tones that Hermann would use, and he decides that he really doesn’t want to witness that. 

And Newt doesn’t normally consider himself a coward, but today he totally wimps out and instead of saying a word, he stands there awkwardly drinking his tea until it’s gone. The only sound in the apartment is the rain. He burns his tongue from trying to drink it quicker so that he can just fucking get out of there. Finally, it’s all gone, and he tries to pretend that he doesn’t feel grateful at that, and he tries to convince himself that Hermann doesn’t look relieved as he leaves. 

He swears at the dark sky as he walks home through the rain, and that makes him feel a little better. Fuck Hermann, why does he have to be so fucking confusing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "how very dare you" and "I ain't even bovvered" lines are both quotations from the British comedy sketch show, _The Cahterine Tate Show_ , all credit to them.


	11. Whatever, You'll Find Someone Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tendo, part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "We Get On" by Kate Nash
> 
> and, also, 3000 hits!! Huzzah! (hahah who says huzzah what a nerd) Thank you all so much for that, and for the kudos, and for all the super awesome nice comments, which always make me so happy!! You guys are awesome.

December 3, 2012

The skies have been threatening snow all day, so Hermann is disappointed when instead it begins to sprinkle small cold drops that strike at bare skin like knives. Snow is the only part of winter he likes; the way it turns everything smooth and neat and uniform, and muffles all sound, so that a person walking in the falling snow can feel as if they are all alone in the world. It used to snow a lot where he lived in Germany, but here it hardly ever falls, and when it does, it’s usually just a thin white frost that melts under the afternoon sun.

He’s sitting in front of a window in the student lounge, watching the icy rain spit at the glass. He ought to be studying, but instead the rain has caused the events of a week - no, it’s already been more than a week - ago to flash non-stop through his head. More specifically, the way Newt said “You’re awesome,” which may now be permanently imprinted on his brain. The words had sounded so - it was surely Hermann’s imagination, but he said it so tenderly, so warmly, so _sincerely_.

And how he had looked in that moment, his hands wrapped around the mug, his hair even messier than normal, freckles standing out against skin pale from the cold - Hermann had just wanted so fucking badly to _kiss_ him. And he doesn’t do that, he doesn’t do impulsive things or take risks or initiate kisses, but he would have fucking done it this time except-

 _Tendo_.

Newt has a boyfriend. And there was no way Hermann is doing that, he absolutely is not going to kiss someone who is seeing someone else, he doesn’t want to be that person and he doesn’t want that in his life.

But, goddamn him, did Newt have to look so eager, or so disappointed when Hermann stepped back? What was his problem, didn’t he even care about _Tendo_ -

“Hey!”

Hermann is so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost doesn’t realize that this was addressed to him. But no one else responds, and it comes from close to him, so - after a pause in which he jerks his mind out of the familiar trails of thought that he has been tracing since the event at his apartment - he looks up. And all he can think is _speak of the devil_ because standing before him is Tendo - and he looks pissed.

“Hermann, right?” Tendo asks, glaring at him in a way that indicates that he is absolutely certain that it is indeed Hermann.

Even as he coolly answers, “Yes, it is,” his mind is racing. Does Tendo know what - almost - happened? But how could he? Unless Newt told him, and why would Newt do that, because nothing _actually_ happened. And anyway, why would Tendo be angry at _Hermann_ over that? Hermann didn’t initiate it, Newt was the one who had to go and say “you’re awesome” while looking all fucking cute and stuff, and Hermann was the one who walked away from it.

“I want to talk to you,” Tendo says, smiling tightly.

Hermann thinks _shit_ and then _goddammit Newt_. That coward, he probably spun the story to make it sound like Hermann’s fault or something. This isn’t entirely rational and doesn’t sound all that much like something Newt would do, but Hermann doesn’t particularly care at the moment. All he says is, with exaggerated politeness, “What about?”

The two had been holding eye contact this whole time - Tendo glaring, Hermann with the coldly blank expression that he had perfected in high school - but Tendo finally looks away now, rolling his eyes. “Newt, _obviously_.”

“Obviously,” Hermann echoes darkly.

Tendo leans in closer, and Hermann refuses to fidget even though he hates people getting in his personal space. There’s no way he’s budging here or showing any signs of discomfort. Hermann isn’t going to show any signs of weakness, particularly not to a guy that’s half a foot shorter than him and wearing a _bowtie_.

“Newt is a great guy, you know,” Tendo says, rather unexpectedly. “Any one would be _lucky_ to have him.”

Hermann’s composure slips for an instant, and he blinks confusedly. This is not where he was expecting this conversation to go. “Yes, he’s…great,” Hermann agrees vaguely, because that seems to be what Tendo is expecting for him.

“Lots of people are interested in him!” Tendo continues, still in the same fierce tone. “I mean, he’s a _catch_! He’s cute, if you like that scruffy hipster thing he’s got going, and he’s super smart, and funny, and he can sing and play the guitar, and he’s probably gonna be super successful someday!”

Is he- Is he trying to _rub_ it in or something? Is he _taunting_ Hermann, because he’s got Newt? What the fuck is wrong with him, why would he do that? Did he realize that Hermann was interested in Newt and now he’s, what, marking his territory or something? What a prick!

Tendo seems like he’s about to continue in this vein, and Hermann’s self-control loosens to the extent that he snaps, “Yes, he’s great, congratulations to you, now what is your _point_?”

“My point,” Tendo growls, stabbing a finger in Hermann’s face, “is that instead of freezing him out, you-“ he stops suddenly, and straightens up, one finger still held up, “Wait, what do you mean, ‘congratulations to me?’”

The aggression on Tendo’s face has somewhat faded, but Hermann doesn’t notice this, and he grits out through closed teeth, “For having him as your _boyfriend_.”

Tendo stares at him, mouths _boyfriend_ , then claps one hand to his mouth and moans, “Oh no.”

“What?” Hermann says, suddenly uncertain.

“Oh nooo, I fucked up,” Tendo groans, tilting his head back to stare despairingly at the ceiling. “Oh no.”

“ _What_?” Hermann repeats.

Tendo turns his gaze back on Hermann. “You think I’m Newt’s boyfriend,” he states, sounding appalled at the idea.

“Aren’t you?” Hermann asks, his voice coming out far more uncertain than he had wanted.

“No!” Tendo exclaims, shaking his head as dramatically as if Hermann had instead asked if he was a murderer. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re not,” Hermann says weakly.

“No _way_. Newt and I are friends. Just friends. I mean, me and Newt - that’s, that’s just, no. I mean, he’s basically my best friend, but _no_.”

Hermann stares at Tendo, then suddenly drops his head into his hands. “I’m such an idiot,” he mumbles.

Tendo says, in the tones of greatest sympathy, “Yes you are. The both of you are. _Idiots_ ,” then, after a pause, adds, “But I guess I should apologize, because I totally do see why you got that impression. My bad…But why didn’t you just ask him?”

“I’m an idiot,” he states again.

Tendo laughs ruefully. “I know that feeling, my friend. Well, at least now you know…so…stop being an idiot now, ‘kay?”

Hermann looks at Tendo sharply, wondering if the other man is implying something, but Tendo just grins mischievously at him, and, with a cheerful, “Bye,” leaves Hermann alone with curious thoughts.

He isn’t sure of how to feel. For one thing, there’s a good deal of chagrin. Why _didn’t_ he just ask? All he had to do was say, _so that’s your boyfriend_ or something like that, and this could have all been cleared up weeks ago. _I could have kissed Newt!,_ he thinks with a sudden painful twist of regret. 

But…could he have? A part of him that had been slowly filling up with excitement over Newt, after all, being single, is suddenly deflated. Just because Newt isn’t dating Tendo doesn’t guarantee that he is interested in Hermann. Yes, in Hermann’s apartment he was - Hermann again conjures the image of Newt’s face that day. Is he sure that was an expression of attraction? It seemed like it but…

Hermann frowns, and absent-mindedly gnaws on his lips. He knows why _he_ backed off from the kiss, but Newt also didn’t initiate anything. Hermann had been assuming that was due to Tendo, but now it’s apparent that isn’t true. Why didn’t Newt do anything? And throughout the past weeks, he hasn’t said or done anything to indicate romantic interest…in fact, it’s rather the opposite. It had seemed like he was…flirting? with Hermann before, but lately he’s been much more standoffish. It’s been positively awkward between the two of them. Admittedly, some of that is Hermann’s fault, who hadn’t quite known how to act around Newt after he’d realized he had feelings for him that couldn’t possibly be fulfilled - or so he thought at the time. But he’s certain that it wasn’t all from him. Newt had definitely been odd as well.

Shit, so what should he _do_? Should he just flat out tell Newt how he feels? Hermann imagines doing that and instantly shudders. Horrifying. Admitting his feelings like that - how terribly embarrassing. And that opens him up to being rejected, which is...No, that simply isn’t possible, at least not until he has a better clue of how Newt feels. He sighs, and then decides that it’s impossible to decide what to do until he has a better clue of how Newt feels. He’ll just…observe Newt, perhaps nudge him a bit, and determine a course of action from there.

Having finally made a plan, of sorts, he turns back to his studying at last, only to realize that he only has five minutes until his next class. He mutters a curse word under his breath, then hastily shuffles his papers together and shoves them in his bag, before heading to his next class at a half-run. It’s the first time he’s been late this whole year. _Damn Newton Geiszler_ , he thinks crossly.

It doesn’t even occur to him until a whole day later to wonder what Tendo's original purpose in talking to him had been.


	12. The Nicest Thing I've Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Signs from the universe.  
> Except that's ridiculous and highly illogical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title from The Nicest Thing by Kate Nash, which is one of my favorite songs

December 12, 2012

Hermann doesn’t believe in signs from the universe. That’s perfectly ridiculous and totally illogical. What he does believe is that the human brain is naturally programmed to look for patterns and meaning even when it isn’t there, and thus imparts the symbolic messages it wants to hear on random objects and events and decides that it is fate telling them what to do. And, right now, staring intently at the object on the shelf in front of him, he thinks his brain is doing precisely that. 

He’s in a book store, and had simply been browsing, when this caught his eye. And of course it is just coincidence, but it does seem like a rather large one. Really, what are the chances of this? It’s so incredibly unlikely that now he, who usually sneers at ideas like fate, finds himself wondering if maybe, every now and then, the universe does send you signs.

It’s a mug. A white coffee mug, with a cartoon style picture of, all things, an axolotl. The word ‘axolotl’ parades around the brim in pink bubble letters. Hermann saw it, froze in the aisle, and has been staring at it disbelievingly for the past ten minutes. 

That something like that even exists seems incredibly unlikely, and that he should come across it even more improbable. An axolotl mug. He- he has to buy that, right? For Newt. It’s even Christmas time; he even found this ridiculous, unlikely thing at the time of year when it is most reasonable for him to buy a present. He has to buy it, and-

Well, there is surely no way to give a present like that just as a friend, right? Surely a gesture like that would carry inescapable connotations. Even Newt would be bound to pick up on that. If he buys this and gives it to Newt, that is as good as admitting his feelings, so if he were going to do that, he might as well just actually say them. 

Confess to Newt like some ridiculous teenager in those stupid shoujo anime his sister used to watch when they were teenagers (which of course Hermann only ever watched because she _made_ him, and not because they were surprisingly relaxing and amusing.)

He should just do that, but the very thought is making his heart shake inside him, and so instead of picking up the damn thing he just stands here staring at it. 

He’s been watching Newt carefully these last few days, and he still isn’t sure what conclusions to draw. Newt seems to have been coming to Striker less often lately. It used to be every two or three days, or even more often, but now it’s more like every four or five days. That isn’t particularly promising. And when he does come, he often seems to be avoiding Hermann’s eyes, and his smiles are a little fake. Hermann has been trying to flirt a little with him, to see what the reaction to that is but…the truth is that he is really horrendously awful at trying to flirt, and he isn’t even sure that Newt noticed that was what he was doing. But Newt does seem to be flirting with Hermann less than he used to. 

All of which is not particularly promising in terms of Newt reciprocating his interest. But somehow, perhaps illogically, Hermann hasn’t lost hope. For one thing, despite the decrease in Newt’s visits, he hasn’t stopped coming altogether. That surely means something. And since Tendo informed him that he was not in fact Newt’s boyfriend, Hermann has found it easier to be natural around Newt, and he thinks Newt has begun to respond to that (which occasionally leads him to wonder if it was him being weird in the first place that made Newt act strangely, and then to feel really irritated with himself). And, most importantly, including the moment in his apartment, there have been various instances where he has caught Newt looking at him with this sort of expression - Hermann can’t properly describe that expression, but he knows that just thinking about it makes him feel warm. That expression, that can’t just be a platonic expression. You don’t look at your friends like that. Admittedly, Hermann has never been the greatest at friendships, but he’s sure that isn’t just a friendly look. 

And the truth is that all this is kind of driving Hermann crazy. Things can’t go on like this. He can’t stop thinking about Newt, all the goddamn time, and every time the bell rings in the shop his heart jumps, and then drops when he sees it isn't Newt, and Herc keeps looking at him knowingly, and yesterday he walked past Tendo on campus and the man _winked_ at him in a very meaningful way, and each time Newt looks at him like that all Hermann wants to do is grab him by his fluffy hair and kiss the ever living fuck out of him. For god’s sake, the fact that he is right now standing here considering this ridiculous mug is just, it’s utterly foolish is what it is, what a silly thing this mug is, but he knows that if he doesn’t buy it he’ll think about it non-stop for the next month, and he has better things to do. He’s tired of being driven mad by Newton Geiszler, but he doubts it’s going to stop anytime soon, and if he’s going to obsess this much over someone than he should at least also be able to snog that person - or, at the worst, know that he _can’t_ snog that person. He at least wants to _know_. 

Hermann takes a deep breath, and grabs the stupid thing off the shelf, the axolotl smiling cheerfully up at him, and, before he can change his mind, stomps over to the register to buy it. His hands hardly shake at all. 

After he buys it he suddenly realizes it’s still two weeks until Christmas. He can’t decide if that’s good or bad. It means he doesn’t have to go through with this immediately…but also that the thought of doing this is going to fucking hang over him. And sure enough, when he sees Newt later that day, the image of that stupid axolotl instantly jumps into his head and he can feel himself instantly turn scarlet. It’s a struggle to stop himself from acting like a total asshole out of embarrassment, but he thinks he manages it.


	13. Your Favorite Kind Of Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actually, I don't know if one can or cannot ride kangaroos  
> but I'm assuming not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok first of all, the this and the next two or three chapters have a lot of Christmas stuff, so I just wanted to warn about that, and also to explain that it's completely not in a religious way. I myself am not religious, I just really like Christmas. So I hope that should be fine.  
> MORE IMPORTANTLY  
> tpeople drew FANART???? OF THIS??? AND ITS BEAUTIFUL! so of course I'm including them!  
> if you wanna see them all in one place, they're all on my blog (http://tsundere-skeletons.tumblr.com/search/some+things+just+make+sense)  
> this one was drawn by kelly-draws.tumblr. com. Here's the link to where she posted it:  
> http://kelly-draws.tumblr.com/post/65861992395/been-reading-some-ultra-cute-coffee-shop-au
> 
> this title from The Nicest Thing by Kate Nash

December 21, 2012

When Newt walks into the café, he is greeted by an interesting sight. Hermann is standing in front of the counter, talking to Herc and his son, who have piles of luggage at their feet. They all turn to look at him, and Herc utters a short laugh and says, “I should have known we wouldn’t be able to get out of here without seeing Geiszler one last time.”

“Are you going somewhere?” Newt asks, with a nod at their luggage.

“We’re going to Australia!” Chuck chirps excitedly.

“Ah, visiting the family for Christmas?” Newt says with an understanding nod.

“I’m gonna ride a kangaroo,” the boy announces with a proud smile. Herc sighs wearily and shakes his head, and Newt finds himself suspecting that this plan might have been in the works a while.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t ride those, kiddo,” Newt tells him, even though he’s guessing it’s a useless attempt.

Sure enough, Chuck crosses his arms and glares at him, and says firmly, “I’m _gonna_ ride one.” 

Newt laughingly raises his hands in surrender. He’s had more than a few interactions with the kid over the last few months, and it didn’t take long to realize that he was pretty stubborn. Plus, he doesn’t seem to much like Newt. Hermann insists that Chuck doesn’t really get along with any adults these days, and casually dismissed the fondness that Chuck seemed to feel for him. Newt has his suspicions about that, suspicions that would also explain why Chuck took a dislike to Newt.

As if in confirmation of Newt’s theories, the boy - apparently satisfied that Newt is no longer questioning his kangaroo riding abilities - picks up a box sitting at his feet and thrusts it at Hermann, who takes it with a questioning look. 

“This is for you, Hermann,” Chuck declares. Hermann examines the box. It’s clearly a shoebox, wrapped messily in shiny Christmas paper, with a bow taped to each corner.

“A Christmas present? You didn’t have to do that,” Hermann exclaims, smiling at the kid. Newt is blinded before the dazzle of that smile - how does Hermann _do_ that? Chuck clearly feels the same as Newt, and turns visibly red and ducks behind his father. 

As Hermann looks at the kid bemusedly, Herc, who is clearly struggling to not laugh, explains, “He made it and wrapped it all himself. He insisted he give it to you before we left,” then adds, in a stage whisper, “I may have helped him a bit.” Chuck squeaks “ _Dad_ ,” in protest, and Herc chuckles. 

“Well, I look forward to opening it,” Hermann says, smiling again. “Thank you,” Chuck, peering around Herc, makes an incoherent sound that might be “Your welcome,” and retreats again. Newt has the hardest time not laughing, but is sure that if he does Chuck will hate him forever. 

“Um, wait a moment, please, and I’ll get yours,” Hermann adds, and ducks into the small back room where he keeps his coat. 

“Oh, he shouldn’t have done that,” Herc mutters, frowning. A moment later, Hermann emerges holding two small boxes. “You really didn’t need to do that,” Herc says again, louder this time. 

“It’s nothing big,” Hermann explains, looking embarrassed, and Herc reluctantly accepts them, handing one to Chuck, who looks at it as if it is the most precious treasure in the world. 

“Thank you,” he says in a low rapturous murmur. Newt looks up at the ceiling so that no one will notice him smirking. 

“Well, we should really get going,” Herc says, looking at the clock. “Got a flight to catch.” He takes a step closer to Hermann and looks him threateningly in the face. “I’m trusting you with my shop, Gottlieb. Don’t make me regret that.”

Newt stares at this display with wide eyes, alarmed at the sudden cold aura emanating from the big Australian, but Hermann doesn’t even flinch. “I won’t,” he says, quite calmly.

Herc smiles, and the tension suddenly vanishes. “Have a nice winter break.” He turns to his son and adds, “All right, kiddo, say bye.”

Chuck glances at Newt, and tosses out “Bye,” with total disregard, then, unexpectedly, ferociously hugs Hermann. “Bye,” he mutters again, the word muffled. Hermann looks utterly shocked and quite touched, and Newt thinks it might be one of the cutest things he has ever seen. He and Herc exchange looks, and Newt can’t decide whether Herc looks more amused or moved. Maybe it’s a mixture of the two.

After a second, Chuck lets go again, his face now completely red, and Hermann - who is also blushing a bit - says, his voice stern, Newt thinks to disguise his emotions, “Good bye Chuck. Happy Christmas.” And after that, and a bit of fuss of gathering up coats and bags, the Hansens are gone. 

Newt can’t stop smirking. “That was _adorable_.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hermann scowls. 

“I think Chuck has a _crush_.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He _loves_ you.”

“You’re so annoying.”

Newt laughs evilly, and goes over to sit in one of the armchairs. The café is now empty other than the two of them, so Hermann takes off his apron and hangs it up neatly - god, he’s such a neat freak - and comes to sit in the armchair next to him. 

“So where’s mine?” Newt demands of him.

Hermann raises his eyebrows. “Your what?”

“Present, of course,” he responds.

Hermann’s reaction is totally unexpected. Newt was anticipating some sarcastic response, not for Hermann to turn completely red - even his ears - and to suddenly be totally incapable of looking Newt in the eyes. He looks intently at his hands, which he is nervously twisting in his lap, and snaps, his voice noticeably higher than normal, “I-it’s still at my apartment…I was, um, planning to, uh, give it to you after C-Christmas…”

What the hell is up with him? Newt stares. “Jesus dude, I was just kidding. I wasn’t even expecting you to get me anything." Well, yes he kind of was, he's actually been banking on that so that it doesn't look weird when he gives Hermann _his_ present. But Hermann doesn't need to know that part.

Hermann doesn’t say anything, just blushes even harder, which shouldn’t have been possible, considering how red he already was. 

“Fuck, are you okay? What’d I say?” Newt asks, feeling worried now. What did he do to elicit this kind of reaction?

“Fine!” Hermann exclaims, all evidence to the contrary. 

“So…you really did get me something?” Newt wonders aloud after a moment. “What is it?”

Hermann finally looks at him, apparently involuntarily, his expression akin to horror. “I! I can’t t-tell you that yet!” he says forcefully. 

“Okay, sorry!” Newt says, holding his hands up defensively. “Fuck, you’re weird sometimes, you know that?”

Still blushing furiously, Hermann looks away, exhaling loudly and running his hands through his hair, which is short enough that this hardly makes a difference. He doesn’t say anything, and the two sit in silence for a moment, Newt wondering what the fuck is going on with him. Hermann is just so _weird_. Newt has the hardest time reading him. First he acts like he thinks Newt is the most annoying thing ever, then it seems like he’s flirting, then he acts like he barely knows Newt, then looks like he wants to kiss him, then the distance is back, and then lately it’s seemed like…like maybe he’s been flirting again? The awkwardness definitely seems to have lessened, but Newt has no idea why. And now there’s this? What a confusing guy. 

Shaking himself out of these unsolvable thoughts, Newt asks, mostly just to break the silence, but also out of curiosity, “By the way, what are your break plans?”

Hermann, who has mostly returned to his normal pale shade, says “Herc trusted me to run the shop on my own for a few days, and the holidays is always a good time for tips, so I’m hopefully going to make some money.” He looks inordinately pleased with this plan, and Newt wants to cry. Working? That’s his plan? And why does he look so _happy_ about that?

“You are a sad, greedy bastard,” he sighs, looking his friend over disappointedly, then tragically dropping his head to rest on the back of the armchair.

“What?” Hermann looks totally nonplussed, as if he really doesn’t see the sadness of his statement.

“Dude!” Newt exclaims, violently sitting back up. “Don’t you know that Christmas and the New Years is for getting pissed at your family and eating too much and getting laid! I don’t want to know your sad money-grubbing plans, what I meant is what are you doing for fun! Are you visiting family, going home, etc? Do you even know what fun is?”

“You are so overdramatic,” Hermann grumbles, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m gonna cry Hermann, I’m seriously gonna fucking cry.”

“Oh, do shut up.”

“SIGH.”

“Don’t say ‘sigh’ out loud, you sound like a moron. What are _your_ evidently superior plans, Newton?”

“I hate when you call me Newton…” he mutters, then grins. “Actually, my mom is coming to visit me for Christmas. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. It’s gonna be so legit. I even bought a turkey and everything. How about you?”

“Do you even know how to cook a turkey?” Hermann asks him.

Newt starts to answer, then closes his mouth and glares suspiciously at the other man. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing for Christmas?”

It’s hard to say why, but somehow, even as Hermann huffs out in annoyance, and opens his mouth, Newt knows that what is going to come out is lies. There is nothing that is different from the way he usually speaks, but somehow Newt knows. And what is worse, he is suddenly certain that he knows what the real answer is. 

“Dude,” he exclaims, leaning over the arm of the chair to look more closely at Hermann, “are you gonna be alone on Christmas!”

It’s clear from Hermann’s face that this is correct. He sighs and slumps slightly, and says in a weary voice, “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” 

“But that’s- You shouldn’t be alone on Christmas, that’s so sad. Why aren’t you going home, or being visited or, I dunno, something!”

Hermann pinches his lips together and glares at Newt. “I’m just not,” he says, suddenly sounding as icy as the winter weather. 

“But-“

“Just leave it alone, Newt!”

Newt bites his lip. He has kind of noticed that Hermann doesn’t often talk about himself or his family, and probably he should drop it and not pry in Hermann’s personal business, not if Hermann doesn’t want to share. But…being alone on Christmas just seems so sad…

“Hermann-“ he starts to say, not entirely sure where’s going - maybe inviting Hermann to spend Christmas with him? Is that too far? But it doesn’t matter what he was going to say, because Hermann, his voice low and strident with clearly repressed anger, again growls, “Leave it!” before Newt can say anything more. 

There’s a sharp silence now, Newt prickling all over with pity - pity, because Hermann can pretend it doesn't matter all he wants, but Newt knows there is no way he gets this irritated if it doesn't at least matter a little - that he is trying to hide, because he is pretty sure that Hermann’s pride can’t stand that sort of thing. Hermann, his face pale and clearly upset despite the fixed expression he is holding, stands abruptly and marches back over to the counter to begin fussing at the neat surface. Newt stays frozen in his chair, wondering what to do. 

Before he can think of anything, a customer comes in. Newt fidgets uncomfortably the whole time that Hermann serves the woman, and when she leave at last, he finds himself, practically shouting, “Okay, I’m sorry for prying or whatever, let’s not argue!”

Hermann is silent for a moment, then comes out from behind the counter, and, standing with his back braced against it, staring at the ground, mutters, “Fine. Don’t shout,” and then ungraciously adds, “Sorry.” 

It’s a pretty terrible apology, but so was Newt’s, so he doesn’t remark upon it. 

“I actually do know how to cook a turkey,” he says, just to change the topic. “With the dingle dangle.”

Hermann looks at him blankly, and if he is grateful that Newt isn't pushing any farther, it's only barely visible around the corners of his mouth. “I don’t even understand you half the time.”

So then of course Newt has to show Hermann that ridiculous video, and instead of watching William Shatner be weird he just dies over how cute and goofy Hermann’s laughing face is. The tension of a moment ago dissipates, which is a relief. He probably won’t be able to see Hermann again until after Christmas, and it would kind of seriously suck to be fighting with Hermann over the holiday.

When did that happen? When did he come to matter this much? How does something like that even happen, how does a person creep into your heart like that? Five months ago he didn’t even know that Hermann existed, and now…now he lives in Newt’s heart, and Newt isn’t sure how to get him out. Newt isn’t sure he _wants_ to get him out. 

He thinks about this all through the next few days. When he makes coffee he thinks about how much better Hermann’s is, and when he decorates his condo he worries about Hermann’s bare walls, and he smiles proudly at the present he bought for him the whole time he wraps it. He thinks he’ll ask his mom what to do about Hermann. Not that she’s had the best track record in relationships, but she’s at least talented at getting them started. 

But then, on Christmas Eve, his mom calls him at ten o’ clock in the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the cliff-hanger...  
> oh right, the dingle dangle is a reference to a really silly video with William Shatner, about frying a turkey.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYkRF_FmD40


	14. I Don't Quite Know How To Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so possibly I took the like, 5 words of information given in the extras about their families and...totally fucking ran with it.  
> today's gorgeous super-cute fanart (THE MUG!!) is also drawn by kelly-draws.tumblr.com  
> THANKS
> 
> Today's title is from Cars by Snow Patrol
> 
> (edit 5/6/15: I see now that this could be considered mildly dubious consent, although that was not how I meant it at the time, and was due to me being careless, less educated than I am now, and not as good of a writer. I am working on rewriting this work, and I will certainly fix this part when I get to it. Until then, proceed with caution (I think it's only mildly dubious?), and I apologize for for not having written a warning like this previously. Thank you.)

December 25, 2012

Hermann wakes up on Christmas feeling dull and dreary. He lies listlessly in bed for a while, hoping to fall back asleep, but eventually admits that isn’t going to happen, and drags himself out of bed. He dresses carelessly, in worn jeans and a baggy knit sweater, and brews himself tea, and then collapses onto his couch, staring moodily out of the window.  
He hates Christmas. 

When he was younger, Christmas was always fun. His mother loved any chance to celebrate - Christmas, New Years, Easter, birthdays, any chance to cook and play music and silly games and decorate. Their house would always be festooned in wreaths and lights, and filled with good smells and laughter. His father used to smile easily back then, laughing and joking with his wife all day. Hermann and his siblings would always wake up as early as possible, mad with impatience for the day to begin, but no matter how early they woke, his mother was always up first, even more impatient than her children.

It was just never the same after she died. 

The first Christmas after her death was terrible. His dad did try, Hermann has to admit that, but it wasn’t a very good effort, and no one was able to even fake a smile that day. Hermann vaguely remembers opening presents while crying, his older brother shouting at him, his older sister locking herself in her bedroom, and his younger brother not understanding and asking repeatedly what was wrong. After that, they generally abandoned the pretense that anything could ever be the same, and Christmas was a quiet, reserved affair at the Gottlieb house. And the last Christmas he had spent with his family had ended in that shouting match with his father. 

Hermann drops his head on the arm of the couch, staring up blankly at the ceiling, wondering which of his siblings will call him this year, and if he should attempt to call any of them. He and Dietrich essentially don’t talk, so not him. It’s probably between Karla and Bastien. He gets along better with Karla, but also fights with her more, and last time he spoke to her they both parted angry. He’s not sure she’s forgiven him yet. So probably Bastien then….he feels guilty about not being more eager about that thought, but the truth is he finds his youngest brother rather boring. 

A few hours drag by like this, Hermann trying - and not being particularly successful - to keep his mind out of unhappy memories. Last year he ended up sitting alone in front of a book, pretending to read but really just trying to not cry, and he is determined to not have a repeat performance. He hates crying. But so far, it’s not going really well. 

And then, unexpectedly, his buzzer loudly rings. 

Hermann’s buzzer _never_ rings, and this is a particularly unlikely time, so at first he simply freezes in the middle of the room, staring unbelievingly at the buzzer, certain it must be a glitch or someone ringing at the wrong door. But then it buzzes again, spurring him into action this time. He’s halfway to the door when he remembers that his intercom has never worked and he has never bothered fixing it, and he changes direction to the window that overlooks the door.

The weather is extremely unpleasant today - which Hermann had rather appreciated, as it suited his mood - and he shivers as he sticks his head out into the freezing rain to see who is there. The rain is blowing sideways into his face, so for a moment he is certain he must be seeing the figure standing below him incorrectly. But he blinks the half-frozen particles out of his eyes, and still sees the same forlorn figure waiting on his doorstep.

“Newt?” 

Newt startles and looks around, then cranes his neck backward. “Oh, Hermann! Can I come in?” he shouts back. 

He wants to ask him why he’s here, but decides that this isn’t the most convenient way to hold a conversation, so instead he calls down, “Wait a moment,” and then runs back over to the door. He wonders if he can still unlock the front door from here even though the intercom is broken. He’s never tried before. He cautiously holds the button down, then opens his apartment door to see if he can hear Newt coming in. It must work after all, because he hears the front door swinging shut and then the sound of someone tromping up the stairs. 

Holding the door open with his foot, Hermann leans in the doorway waiting for Newt. He tops the staircase a few moments later, his hair dripping with melting ice, holding a plastic bag wrapped around a box in one hand, a bottle of vodka in another hand, and with a weak, forced smile on his face. He is an entirely pitiful sight. 

“Hey,” he greets Hermann, fake cheer in his voice. “Merry Christmas…”

Hermann frowns at him. If he hadn’t seen Newt’s face, he would have predicted this was some sort of pity visit, and been rather angry. But Newt looks far too upset, despite the smile plastered on his face, for that to be true. Hermann means to demand why Newt is here, but instead the question “Are you all right?” comes out.

The smile slips and melts off of Newt’s face, rather like the ice crystals caught in his hair. “My mom, um…bailed on me,” he explains, and for a moment his face is so desperately unhappy that something inside Hermann comes entirely unhinged. He wants rather badly to comfort Newt, to hug him or say some kind phrase, but he doesn’t know how to do that, he has no idea how to go about comforting someone, so instead he steps back into his apartment, opening the door wide so Newt can come in. Newt forces a smile back on his face and enters with a muttered “Thanks.” 

“Uh, sit down,” Hermann says, waving vaguely at the couch. He watches Newt drop his packages on the counter and strip off his wet jacket, and wonders desperately what to do. He chews on his lips, and then thinks, with something like relief, _tea_. Immediately, he sets making some, grateful for something to do with his hands. 

When he turns away from the stove, Newt is still standing in the middle of the room, watching him with a puzzled expression. “You…look cold,” Hermann explains lamely, wondering where all of his words have gone. 

“Oh. Thanks.”

Hermann leans on the counter, and wishes that he wasn’t so absolutely useless in situations like this. “I’m sorry to hear about you mom?” he offers up, uncertain of the words, so that they come out sounding like a question. That is the sort of thing you say at a time like this, right? Only, it does rather make it sound like she has died, and that is no good at all. 

Newt doesn’t seem to notice anything odd in Hermann’s words. He shrugs in a way that is meant to be casual, but Hermann can tell is not. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he says off-handedly. “She’s not the most…reliable person ever. I guess…I guess something came up, so she couldn’t make it. It’s…whatever. But, um, I remembered you weren’t doing anything, so I figured…”

“Right,” Hermann says softly, nodding in agreement. 

“Um…is it okay?” 

“Oh! Of course!” Hermann exclaims, startled. That had seemed perfectly obvious in his mind. “I was just - sitting around, so yes, it’s fine.”

Newt looks relieved. “Cool. Thanks, dude,” he says, and sits down at last, as the kettle begins to scream. 

Having poured them both a mug of tea - and this must be like his fiftieth cup today - Hermann at last ventures out into the living room. He thrusts the mug into Newt’s hand, and then precariously balances himself on the rickety wooden table - a hand-me down from Herc - that is before the couch. It would be more comfortable on the couch, but it’s not a very large couch, and would not leave much room between him and Newt. 

Newt cradles the mug of tea in his hand, and the image of him smiling kindly down at a mug and saying “you’re awesome” again thrusts itself violently into Hermann’s mind. The warmth in that smile - but today Newt gazes at the tea in an abstract way, his thoughts clearly far away. Hermann contemplates patting him on the shoulder - isn’t that something people do? - but he isn’t sure how comforting that would really be, or how to carry it out in a natural way, and settles for sipping his tea and trying to desperately think of a way to break the silence.

“My mother is dead.”

God fucking _dammit_. What the fuck is wrong with you, Hermann, really, that is really how you try to comfort someone, you bring up your dead mother? What the bloody hell.

Newt jerks up, eyes wide, and Hermann hastily says, “Er, well, if we’re sharing information about our families, uh, yes, my mother is dead, and…god, I’m an idiot, I’ll shut up now.” He can feel his face turning red, and he ducks his head to stare intensely at his tea.

A weird choking sound comes from Newt, so that Hermann looks at him without thinking. Newt has one hand clapped against his mouth, and is shaking, and for a truly terrible second Hermann thinks he is crying. And then he realizes it’s the opposite - Newt is laughing. 

“Oh my god,” he gasps, drawing out the last word. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, this isn’t at all funny, but, dude, you should have seen your _face_. You looked so- appalled. I, oh man, I can’t, you are too funny.” 

Hermann stares and sputters wordlessly, unsure of whether he is horribly insulted or embarrassed or as amused as Newt. Newt gets control of himself at last, and, drawing one last laughing breath, says, “Ok, that really wasn’t funny, I’m a total piece of shit to laugh at you, but, ah…ok, but yeah, dead mom, not funny, sorry.” 

Hermann settles for being embarrassed and mildly insulted, and scowls into his tea. But he is, just the tiniest bit, gratified to have wiped that sad look off of Newt’s face. 

His face must still be amusing, because Newt cackles again, and apologizes again. “Oh god, I’m the worst, I know, but your face. Sorry.”

“I hate you,” Hermann grumbles.

“Ahaha, I know you do. But, um, actually, yeah, thanks for cheering me up. And um, sharing, even if it kinda was the bad sharing.”

“I really hate you.”

Newt giggles again. 

“Just shut up and drink your goddamn tea.” 

Newt had set his mug on the table when his laughing fit began, and now he leans forward to pick it up again. “Thanks for the tea, by the way,” he says, and lifts the mug as if cheering Hermann, before taking a long swig. 

He sighs appreciatively after swallowing and, looking at Hermann over the rim of his mug, remarks, “You know, I never really liked tea when I was younger, but that tea you made me last time was really good, so I kind of thought maybe my tastes had changed? So I tried making myself some at home…and it was total shit. I think it’s just you that makes it good.”

This is a stupid, offhanded compliment, and there is absolutely no reason for that to make Hermann’s face burn. Nonetheless, he can feel the blood rushing to his face. “Thanks,” he mumbles, looking anywhere but into Newt’s blue eyes. 

“Oh, that reminds me!” Newt exclaims, putting his tea down again and jumping to his feet. He runs across the room to grab the plastic bag on the counter, which is revealed to contain a box wrapped in what is definitely Halloween wrapping paper. “I didn’t have any Christmas wrapping paper,” he explains as he hands the box to Hermann. “Merry Christmas!”

“Why do you even have Halloween pap- never mind, I don’t want to know,” Hermann says, accepting the present, and then promptly putting it on the table. “Wait here a moment.” He retreats into his bedroom, where Newt’s present has been staring at him accusingly from his dresser-top for the last two weeks. Hermann stares at it, mentally steeling himself. _The truth is, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you…I have feelings for you._ God, it’s really fucking hard to even _think_ the words, and that after two weeks of mentally practicing and agonizing over them. He was going to say more originally, but decided simple was better. He takes a deep breath, snatches the package off the dresser, and marches back into his living room. _Just do it_ , he tells himself. 

Newt says “Ooh, the mysterious present at last” as Hermann hands it to him, and he remembers the debacle at the coffee shop a few days ago when Newt asked him if he had gotten him a present. Hermann can already feel his face getting hot in anticipation of what is going to come. This is not going to be easy. It’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t have a heart attack. 

To distract himself as Newt makes a show of examining the box - what a piece of shit he is - Hermann starts to unwrap Newt’s present to him. “Oh, this is lovely,” he exclaims, momentarily forgetting his nerves over his present to Newt as he flips through the book. It’s a history of tea, extremely detailed, and filled with various ways for mixing and brewing tea. He looks up at Newt, a smile breaking on his face, and is instantly arrested by the expression on Newt.

He has opened Hermann’s present, and is holding the white mug as if it is an invaluable treasure, and smiling in an incredulous way, as if he has never seen anything quite so amazing in his life. “Hermann,” he gasps.

Hermann can feel himself turning instantly scarlet. His carefully rehearsed speech vanishes from his head, and all he can do is stare at Newt, and the mug, and stammer.

Newt looks at him, still smiling so beautifully, and says “Hermann,” again. He carefully sets the mug down amidst the chaos of ripped paper, leans forward, puts his newly freed hands on Hermann’s cheeks, and kisses him. 

Hermann’s brain shuts down entirely, and his body, freed of the ordinary doubts and hesitations laid on them by that organ, acts on its own, his arms going around Newt, his mouth parting eagerly, and his heart skipping a beat and then slamming into double duty. 

Newt pulls away slightly, although he can’t move too far because Hermann is gripping him tightly, and grins at Hermann. 

“The truth is, I really like you,” Hermann whispers. This is important. 

Newt smiles and smiles, and says, “I like you too.”

“Good,” Hermann breathes, and shoves him back on the couch so that he can climb on top of him to get at a proper angle. Newt makes a startled noise, which is cut off when Hermann sticks his tongue in his mouth, but from the way he puts his hands on Hermann’s hips, he doesn’t mind. Hermann runs his hands through Newt’s still damp hair, which he has been dying to do for ages. He can feel a slight crinkle to it. Ha, he does put product on it, Hermann knew it. 

Newt runs his hands under Hermann’s sweater and up against his chest, his hands tracing his ribs. “Fuck, you’re so skinny,” he mumbles when they temporarily break away for air.

“Shut up,” Hermann orders, feeling himself smile. “Your hands are cold.”

“Oh yeah, and your hand on my ass is so nice and warm,” Newt retorts. “You feel like a dead person.”

“It’s a very nice ass,” Hermann offers as apology, and experimentally nibbles on one of Newt’s ears. Newt makes a little squeaking noise which is extremely cute, and definitely worth reproducing, but perhaps later, because Newt is now licking his neck and that is making it hard to focus on experiments. Hermann has so many things he has been wanting to do to Newt, thoughts that have been demanding his attention intermittently for the last three months, but it’s a little difficult to remember specifics when Newt is doing those things with his hands. 

Hermann decides it’s unfair that his shirt is now totally off and yet Newt is still completely dressed, and starts tugging at Newt’s jean zipper. He’s not at his most coordinated right now, and the button gives him some trouble. He had been kneeling over Newt, but he rocks back on his legs to try and get a better angle. Newt is lying on the couch underneath him, clothes disheveled, hair tousled, breathing hard, and he is so utterly sexy that Hermann has an even more difficult time with the buttons. When Newt grabs at his fumbling hands, he at first thinks that Newt is providing him with assistance, and then makes a noise of protest when he realizes that Newt is grasping at his hands so that he can’t reach the buttons.

“We’re both sort of lonely and vulnerable right now, Herm, this probably isn’t the best time to hook up,” Newt says, reluctance clear in his voice. 

Hermann frowns, taking a deep, thoughtful breath. This is a valid point, but… “Yeah, I’m still up for it if you are.” 

The resulting laugh rumbles through Newt, and Hermann can feel it running through his bones. He glares at Newt. 

“You shouldn’t look that sexy when you glare,” Newt says breathlessly.

“Yes, thank you, so let’s _have sex_ ,” Hermann impatiently responds. 

Newt whispers “jesus fucking christ,” and then, after an indecisive pause, sits up, sliding out from underneath Hermann. 

It’s surprising the pain that suddenly hits Hermann. A slap of _rejection_ hits him in the face, and he, who moments ago couldn’t stop devouring Newt with his eyes, suddenly can’t bear to look him in the face. What, did Newt suddenly change his mind, did Hermann do something wrong?

“Herm, I just- c’mon, look at me.”

Hermann glares at his hands, and wishes he hadn’t taken off his sweater. “I told you not to call me Herm,” he growls, and curses his own utter inability to ever say what he actually wants to say.

Newt’s hand gently grabs his chin, and pulls his face around so he has to look at Newt. Newt mutters “dumbass” - which really seems utterly uncalled for - and then leans forward and firmly kisses him again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Hermann asks weakly. 

“I just- I want to do this right, ok. I don’t want to just hook up today, and then tomorrow pretend this never happened, and have it be awkward between us for months, or have us just drop out of contact - I, I want to actually-“ he stops here because Hermann slaps him on the arm.

“If you do that shit I’ll fucking murder you!” he snarls. 

“Ow- stop that! That’s what I’m saying, I’m saying I don’t want to do that!”

“Well I’m not fucking gonna do that, so it would have to be you!” 

“I’m not gonna do that, dammit, Herm, stop hitting me!”

Hermann kisses him instead, and they both seem to find that an agreeable alternative. 

“Wait, Herm-“ 

“Seriously, if you don’t stop calling me that I’m gonna put cyanide in your coffee, I _told_ you.” 

“You’d totally get caught now, stop shoving at my shirt, you’re hurting me.”

“Well, then fucking take it off. What d’you mean, I’d get caught _now_? I’d totally get away with it, what difference does time make?”

“Ok, you have to let go a sec for me to take it off - and they’d have no reason to suspect the random barista, but the police’d go for the boyfriend in an instant!”

Hermann goes still, letting go of Newt’s shirt. Newt wrestles it off, then looks at Hermann’s arrested face and says, sounding nervous, “What?”

“Boyfriend?”

“Um…if that’s ok…god, see, this is why I wanted to _talk_ first.”

Newt is looking unhappily at Hermann as if he’s expecting him to leap off the couch and run as fast as he can, but Hermann instead suddenly breaks into a brilliant smile, that same bright smile that, if he had only known it, had totally wrecked Newt’s heart those months ago. “Boyfriend,” he repeats, pronouncing the word carefully, his accent rolling the ‘r’ in a way that Newt finds too hot by half. “Boyfriend is a very silly term,” he says thoughtfully, and then adds, “but it’ll do.” 

By the time Newt’s brain - which is admittedly functioning at lower speeds than normal, due to certain external conditions - has processed these words enough for him to start grinning uncontrollably, Hermann has started fighting with his pants’ button again. Newt could help him, but he is more curious about Hermann’s own buttons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's my shameful secret: I am incapable of writing smut. Sorry.


	15. Make Me Very Very Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> god this chapter is just shameless fluff only I am kind of ashamed so I guess not shameless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's picture was drawn by groovy-tiger.tumblr.com. Thank you~  
> The title is from Kate Nash's Merry Happy

December 26, 2012

Newt’s in that state where you are no longer asleep but don’t want to admit that you are awake yet. He’s deliciously warm, and, other than something poking into his side, perfectly comfortable, and he doesn’t want to open his eyes. But there is a slowly dawning feeling that there’s something important he needs to remember, so he reluctantly allows his eyes to flutter open. As soon as his vision focuses, he recalls the something important, and a smile slowly unfolds on his face. 

Hermann’s face is only a few inches away from his own. His eyes are still shut, long eyelashes dark on his pale cheek, lips slightly parted, breath whistling in and out softly. In sleep, the hard angles of his face seem softer, younger, more innocent. He’s curled up under the blanket, pressed into Newt, one knee pushed up against Newt’s stomach. Newt is half-sprawled across him, an arm flung across his side. And it’s kind of sort of totally perfect.

And Newt could get up and make coffee and maybe breakfast and use the bathroom and take a shower and snoop in Hermann’s stuff but he’d rather be a cliché from a romantic comedy and stay here and just look at Hermann. He’s so…beautiful is the word that keeps coming to mind, which is totally ridiculous, but yeah, that’s the word that is there.

It hasn’t been that long when Hermann begins to stir. He makes a cute little groaning sound, shifts around, then seems to feel the weight of Newt on him and goes still, opening his eyes. Newt smiles, a little embarrassed. Hermann stares at him, eyes going wide, and Newt suddenly feels apprehension stir in his stomach. Shit, what if Hermann regrets this?

Then Hermann smiles, a small shy smile, and says, “Oh, it’s you.”

Newt grins, all nerves vanishing. “Hey,” he murmurs back, scooting forward to lightly kiss Herm on the mouth. \

Hermann leans into the kiss, untangling one hand from the sheets to slide up Newt’s back, who starts and jerks away. A hurt expression flashes across Herm’s face, but then Newt hisses, “Oh fuck, your hands are _cold_ ,” and his face clears, becoming rueful instead.

“Sorry,” he says. “Bad circulation. I’m always cold in the winter.”

“That is not cold, Herm, that is dead. You are dead. I’m sorry to tell you that, but you clearly died, probably several days ago.” 

Hermann snorts at him, and uses those clearly dead hands to shove Newt off. He sits up, the movement pushing the blankets off both of them, letting in a cold breeze. Newt yelps and swears and tugs the comforter back over him.

“Fuck, it’s cold in here! No wonder you died, you must have frozen to death!” 

“Oh, shut up. Quit whining,” Herm says unsympathetically, climbing out of bed. 

“Waiiiit, where are you goiiiiing?” Newt whines, even as he admires the sight of Hermann, wearing only boxers. Those hip bones really are fucking majestic. He’s so skinny and pale, but yeah, somehow that really really works. The word beautiful drifts into Newt’s head again. He shoves it out of his head, because he's not _that_ sappy.

“I’m hungry, and I want a shower,” is the pragmatic answer. Much to Newt’s disapproval, he then crosses the room to his closet, pulling out a bulky sweater and tugging it over his head. Before he can even really protest, Herm fixes him with a glare and says, “It _is_ cold.” 

Newt reluctantly sits up, pulling the blanket with him. But there are important things to be considered. “How big is your shower?” he asks.

Hermann stares at him a moment, licks his lips thoughtfully - which is just unfair - and then sighs and shakes his head. “Tiny,” he says. “Way too tiny.” 

“Dude, your apartment _sucks_ ,” Newt announces, and plans how to get Herm to his place. 

Herm shrugs, which Newt thinks might be agreement, then says, “Would you rather use the shower first, or me?”

Newt doesn’t quite want to get up yet, so he tells Hermann that he can go first. And then, as soon as he hears the shower start up, he realizes this is the perfect opportunity to snoop, and forces himself out into the cold air. 

First thing is that it really is cold as fuck in here, so he shivers his way out into the living room, and picks up his shirt from yesterday. And then stands for a moment grinning smugly at the mess of wrapping paper and discarded clothing and the _fucking mug_.

That happened, that definitely fucking happened, he definitely fucking had sex with Hermann Gottlieb on his couch. Yeah, that happened. He wants to stick his head out the window and scream this and post it on facebook and twitter and tumblr and every other social media in existence and text it to every single person he knows - but probably if he did that Hermann would kill him. And he would really like to have sex with Herm again, so he refrains from doing this. Instead he shakes himself slightly, and putters back into Hermann’s bedroom to steal a too long pair of jeans, then focuses on the next most important order of business, which is finding coffee. 

What he discovers is that there is no fucking coffee. That is just fucking blasphemy. There’s only fucking tea. How can he not have coffee, he works in a fucking coffee shop, how is there only tea? Newt stares into the cupboard full of tea as if it were the abyss - and wow, Nietzsche was right, it does look back - and then closes it again. He’s not even gonna fucking try to make tea, it’ll just be shitty, and Herm will be out soon and then he can make it. Instead, Newt continues poking around the kitchen. 

Herm has a small quantity of slightly chipped plates and cups and silverware, a single pot and a single pan and a kettle. It’s sort of sad, but Newt supposes his own kitchen supplies aren’t that much more extensive. The fridge is the real tragedy. No wonder he’s so fucking skinny. Newt looks into the desolate fridge and wants to cry even more than when he looked at the cupboard full of tea. 

The kitchen fully explored, Newt returns to the living room, closely inspecting for the first time the papers that are taped to the walls. There are a surprising amount of posters of planes and space-ships and nebula and so on. He knew that Herm was into astrophysics and stuff, but wow, he didn’t realize it was to this extent. Most of the posters are official looking diagrams, and it takes Newt a second to realize that the one he is currently examining is actually a blue print for the USS Enterprise. He grins. What a _nerd_ , he thinks fondly. Next to this there is a childish looking, clearly hand-drawn picture of, like, a Gundam or something. Newt is mystified by this, until he reads the name written in the corner in big, messy letters - Chuck Hansen. And then it’s so cute that he kind of wants to die. 

Next, he turns his attention to the books stacked neatly around the edge of the room. No bookshelves, for some reason. A moment’s inspection reveals that each pile is dedicated to one subject - the books on space take up half a wall - and that within each subject the books are filed by the author’s last name, in alphabetical order. Fuck, he also finds this so fucking cute. 

One stack of books particularly catches his attention. It’s in the corner of the room, and unlike the other stacks, this one is entirely made up of worn out notebooks. Thinking back, he can remember seeing Herm write in this sort of notebook before, like that time he met him on campus. Newt pulls the one of the top, thinks _I probably shouldn’t look at this_ , and then flips it open. 

“You have absolutely no respect for privacy, do you?” Herm suddenly remarks from behind him.

“Oh jesus fuck-“ Newt shrieks, jumping in shock and dropping the notebook. He spins around, almost falling over, to see Hermann watching him from the doorway of the bathroom with an expression that is half-annoyed and half-amused. “You scared the shit out of me,” Newt gasps, putting one hand on his heart for affect. 

“Maybe if you wouldn’t go poking around in other people’s things you wouldn’t be so on edge,” Hermann retorts. 

Newt guiltily glances at the notebook which is now lying on the floor. “Oh, what, noooo, I wasn’t…” he lamely mumbles, then smiles apologetically and bends over to pick up the notebook and put it back on the pile. 

“Don’t even bother denying it.”

“...ok,yeah, I was totally snooping. Sorry,” he apologizes, then suddenly smiles charmingly. A good idea has popped into his head. “How about to make it up, you can snoop in my apartment sometime?”

There’s a pause, and then Hermann, looking studiously at his hands, says in a too calm voice, “Ok…tonight?”

God fucking dammit he is so fucking cute what the actual fuck. 

Newt is across the room in a second. He has to stand slightly on his toes to reach Hermann’s mouth, and then he is kissing him again. “You have to stop being this cute,” he says breathlessly a moment later. 

Herm is so fucking uncooperative, and has started blushing adorably, in direct defiance of Newt. “I’m not cute,” he protests, which is just a _lie_.

“You are,” Newt assures him, letting go. “Super fucking cute. In a very manly and adult way, of course.” 

“Shut up,” Hermann says, but he can’t stop the smile that’s tugging at his lips. 

“Cute,” Newt repeats. 

“Go take a shower, idiot.” 

Newt grins at him and obediently follows orders. When he gets out, the small apartment smells like tea and toast. Hermann is sitting cross-legged on his couch, eating toast that has - is that nutella? That is totally nutella. 

“Your fridge is really sad,” Newt says, walking over to him. “But you at least have nutella, and that is important.” 

“I forgot to go grocery shopping,” Hermann responds with a shrug, handing him a mug. Newt is about to ask how a person could ever possibly forget to buy _food_ , but then he notices the mug and remembers it all over again.

It’s the axolotl mug, of course, and Newt carefully takes it from Hermann and smiles at it like an idiot. The little cartoon character of the amphibian is really cute, but it could be the ugliest picture in the world and it would still make Newt feel like this - like his heart is singing or some cheesy shit like that. And not just singing, but singing super happy pop music, Katy Perry or something like that. This is surely the nicest present he has ever gotten. 

“I’m gonna treasure this mug for the rest of my life,” he tells Hermann, sitting on the couch as next to him and wriggling into his side. “I’ll fucking hang it on my walls, like a piece of art, and there’ll be plaque underneath, saying ‘This mug forever commemorates that Hermann Gottlieb is super cheesy romantic and also that we had _sex_.’”

“That’s a very long title,” Hermann says, struggling to hide a smile. “And also, no I’m not, and also, if you do that I’ll kill you.”

Newt laughs incredulously. “What, are you going to deny that this is a crazy cute and romantic thing to do? This is some romantic comedy shit, Herm.” 

“It is not,” Herm declares.

“Oh, well, did I misunderstand? Was that not an adorable confession of your raging sexual attraction to me, are you not interested? That was just accidental sex was it, shall I just go home now and pretend this never happened?”

“Don’t you dare,” Herm growls. 

“Oh, so you do like me then?”

“Newt, come on.”

“I want to hear you say it,” Newt sings, grinning enormously. Instead, Hermann carefully snatches the mug full of tea out of his hands, sets it down, and unceremoniously kisses the fuck out of him. 

“I have to say I am rather fond of being able to do that,” Hermann tells him after, smirking. 

“I encourage you to do it as often as you like.” 

They smile stupidly at each other, both full to the brim of happiness. Then Hermann hands him a piece of toast slathered with nutella and settles back down on the couch. Newt takes it with thanks.

“I think that yesterday was the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” he says around a mouthful of toast. 

“Definitely the best I’ve had,” Hermann agrees. “Much better than what I was expecting.” 

“So, were-“ Newt starts to ask, before his mind catches up to his mouth. “um, nope, never mind.” No prying, he reminds himself. Especially not right now when everything is so…perfect. No need to fuck that up.

Hermann toys thoughtfully with his toast for a second, then puts it carefully down on the plate and turns his body so that he’s sitting to face Newt directly. “Fine, go on, you can ask. Just one question though, okay? I really do hate to…share, or whatever.” 

This is probably a test, and he’s probably supposed to assure Hermann that he doesn’t want to ask any questions that Hermann doesn’t want to answer, that he has no intentions of forcing Herm to talk about things he’d rather keep private. But he doesn’t do that. Duh. 

“Okay, so how come you were going to be alone on Christmas?” 

Herm sighs, then says, his voice carefully neutral, “I don’t really talk to my family anymore. Particularly my father. He doesn’t…approve of me, I suppose. Two years ago…over winter break actually…that was the last time I went home and…we got into an argument, and I, uh, left. And we haven’t spoken since.”

Newt had suspected something like this. But still, it’s surprisingly painful to hear Herm say these things, particularly with that look on his face. It’s like he’s trying so hard to pretend that he doesn’t care, and obviously he does. 

Who the fuck could disapprove of Hermann?

He wants, like a lot, to hug Hermann. But he knows Herm well enough by now to be pretty sure that he wouldn’t welcome that. So instead Newt casually puts his hands over Hermann’s and says, “I approve of you a lot.” 

His mouth twitches reluctantly into a faint smile. “I should hope so, after all that last night,” he says soberly. 

Newt giggles. “I definitely approve of you after that. But I assure you I approved of you beforehand.” 

Hermann finally looks at him again. “I suppose I approve of you too,” he states solemnly.

Newt grins. “Wow, Herm, such strong words, you’re making me blush,” he teases, and when Herm at last properly smiles again, he decides it’s safe to wrap his arms around him, pull him close, and kiss his neck. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Hmmph.” The sound comes out muffled against his shoulder, where Hermann is pressing his face against him. Newt laughs at him and doesn’t let go. He’s expecting Herm to pull away, but he…doesn’t. Just stays with his arms twined around Newt’s waist, his face buried into Newt’s shoulder. 

“…Herm, aren’t you gonna pull away?” Newt asks eventually. “Not that I mind…”

“I don’t know,” Hermann said thoughtfully. “I haven’t, um, hugged anyone in…a while. I think I’m…curious.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m investigating if I like it.”

“Oh, I see. An experiment?”

“Exactly.”

“…and what are your results, might I ask?”

Hermann falls quiet, then shifts in Newt’s arms, pulling away slightly. Newt feels a little pang of disappointment, but he’s not exactly surprised. It’s not unexpected for Herm to not be ‘touchy’ or whatever. Even discounting the sex - not that he would ever, ever want to discount the sex - the last twenty-four hours is the most he’s touched Hermann the whole time he’s known him. Well, Newt can live with that-

“I think I like it,” Herm announces, looking him in the eyes. “You’re warm.” 

“Oh,” Newt says with a pleased smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

Hermann finally properly breaks the hug, but he’s still smiling faintly. “You’re really cute,” Newt whispers.

“You have to stop saying that.” 

“I don’t think I can.”

“I’m not cute. _You’re_ -“ but here Herm chokes on what he was going to say and falls abruptly silent. 

“What?”

“No, never mind,” Hermann mutters, blushing slightly. 

Newt frowns thoughtfully, but decides it isn’t a big deal, whatever it is. So he lets it go, and drinks his tea before it goes cold. He thinks maybe the mug makes it extra delicious. He’s sad when it’s all gone, but not just because it’s good, but also because it is just fucking freezing in Herm’s apartment.

“Dude, I’m seriously gonna get frostbite if I stay here any longer.” 

“I can’t help that, the heating is broken or something.”

“…so let’s go somewhere else.”

“Where?”

Newt turns to him, eyes shining with sudden excitement. “Dude, let’s go on a date.”


	16. Is It Cool If I Hold Your Hand?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Unexpected Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist that one quotation.  
> today's fanart was drawn by the super-cute iraya.tumblr.com! THANK YOU SO MUCH
> 
> I couldn't make the whole first chorus of Blink 182's First Date the title...but it was really hard to pick just one line. Also I just couldn't resist using that song.

December 26, 2012

Hermann didn’t even know Newt could drive. And there’s an instant of blind panic when Newt - planning out their 'date' - casually mentions that, because oh my god he had sex with this guy and told him that he liked him and is now apparently embarking on a relationship with him and he didn’t even know that Newt could drive? He has to take deep breaths. He reminds himself that it’s Newt, and he knows enough about him, and not knowing whether or not he can drive is not a big deal. 

_There’s time enough to find stuff like that out_ , he sternly tells himself, and then mocks himself for being a cliché out of a romantic movie. But actually, the whole last day or so has been a scene out of a rom com, hasn’t it? They’re even going on a date now - thus the car. Newt ran back to his place to get dressed and get his car. 

A _date_.

A date. A date, a date, a date. The words are bouncing around in his head, mixed up with others such as _cute_ and _boyfriend_. This is ridiculous, truly and utterly ridiculous. It’s not like he’s in high school, it’s not like he’s never done any of this before.

But truthfully, it’s never been like this before. And maybe if he could stop smiling he would be dismayed with himself, but he thinks that maybe this is the most he’s ever smiled in his life. And it doesn’t help that Newt keeps looking at him with this sort of adoring look when he smiles and muttering things like, “I can’t believe how cute you are.” 

He wants to say “ _You’re_ the cute one,” but he can’t get the words to actually travel from his brain to his mouth. It’s probably best to not push too far. He’s already done more new and reckless things today and yesterday than he is accustomed to or comfortable with.

Hermann doesn’t do reckless things. He doesn’t do _any_ of this. 

He thinks with a spike of anxiety that a date might really be pushing it, might be a step too far out of his comfort zone - but all Newt had proposed was to go see a movie and then go from there…a movie. Yeah, he can handle that. They’ll sit in the dark theater and watch a movie and that will be relaxing and private and maybe Hermann will be a complete teenage girl and hold Newt’s hand. 

He realizes that the thought is making him smile dreamily. Yes, he is definitely regressing back to being fourteen - except when he was fourteen he was definitely not getting laid.

Hermann pulls himself together and reminds himself that Newt is waiting in his car and sternly vows to stop making such a fool of himself. Or, at the very least, to act more like his age. 

When he gets down to Newt, he is barely given time to get into the car before Newt crawls across the seats and practically mounts him. _At least this is a little less juvenile_ , he thinks with the part of his brain that isn’t utterly focused on kissing Newt. And then he realizes it probably is - aren’t teenagers in movies always making out in cars? He isn’t entirely certain. This is certainly not what he did as a teenager.

“I missed you,” Newt tells him with an expression of mock-solemnity.

“You were gone for like five minutes,” Hermann protests with a smile. God, his face is gonna get sore from all this smiling. He just isn’t used to it - not that he minds it.

“That’s like forever,” Newt insists.

“Maybe to an axolotl brain like yours.”

Newt lets out a startled giggle. “Oh my god, you made the axolotl joke this time,” he says. “And I’ll have you know that my axolotl brain is very smart.”

“How come it took you so long to actually kiss me then?” Hermann demands. And it’s odd, because the words are supposed to be a joke, but as he says them, he suddenly means them. 

That must come out in his tone, because Newt lifts his eyebrows in surprise, then draws them together thoughtfully. Pursing his lips, he finally climbs off of Hermann’s lap - which Hermann regrets - and, sliding back into the driver’s seat, admits, “To be honest…I really couldn’t figure out how you felt about me. I mean…well, for the longest time I thought you were sort of…I dunno, put off by me? It wasn’t till I saw that mug, and your face, that I felt sure.”

“Why on earth did you think that?” Hermann asks, eyes wide. “I’ve been…” he falters for a moment. It’s somehow so hard to make himself say again that he…has feelings for Newt, or whatever. “…you know, for like two months!”

“But you were so…like, cold. I thought you were pissed at me, or, or something.”

Pissed? Hermann mouths _oh_ in sudden understanding, and feels stupid. So this really was, at least partially, due to him reacting so poorly before. He rubs his face, then forces himself to say, “I sort of was…for a really stupid reason. But, but only for a short time, I assure you.”

“Wait, you were? Why?”

He sighs, and reluctantly confesses, “After that time you came in with Tendo, I- I was under the impression you were dating him, and I was-“ he takes a deep breath, then mutters, embarrassment twisting in his chest, “jealous.”

Newt gapes at him. “ _Tendo_? You thought- and you were - _jealous_? Of- oh my god, what?”

“It’s stupid, I know,” Hermann says hastily, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks. Goddammit, he hardly ever blushes, but lately it’s like he’s perpetually red. How humiliating. “It kind of made me act like an- I was- badly behaved.” After a beat, he mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Wait so- Tendo? And- jealous. And…you liked me that far back? Enough to be jealous?”

Hermann nods because he’s too embarrassed to actually say yes. 

Staring thoughtfully out the window, Newt considers this, then says, “Wow, I feel dumb too.” 

“Huh? Why?”

“Well, personally, I’ve been crushing on you for…longer than that, actually. Actually, the reason I brought Tendo along that day was because he demanded to see the guy who - what was the phrase he used? Something dumb. And just, like, damn, you were into me too, and I totally could have just made out with you months ago and skipped all this stupidity. That is - a serious waste,” Newt explained, frowning at the grey sky he could see through the window. 

Hermann considers this, and is mostly struck by the thought that Tendo fucking _knew_ Newt was into him and, well, that might explain some things, and, _damn_ that man. Outwardly, all he says is, “I suppose we were both kind of foolish.” 

Newt nods. “I’ve learned an important lesson,” he says solemnly. “No more fucking around with doubts or shit like that. It’s like that saying, fortune favors the brave, dude.”

“I don’t remember the 'dude' part.”

“Pretty sure it was there.” 

“I’m certain it wasn’t,” Hermann insists, a smile starting to hover on his lips.

“No, it definitely was,” Newt tells him, grinning broadly. “You can trust me, Herm, I’m really smart and stuff.” 

“You’re so full of shit.”

Newt giggles, and puts the car into drive, pulling out carefully into the slippery street. “Herm, if you’re only just now realizing that, we might have some issues.”

“Oh no, I’ve known for quite a while,” Hermann states, and marvels at how little he minds that nickname in Newt’s mouth. In fact, he rather likes it. “I’ve been fairly certain of it ever since we first met and you told me to mind my customer service.”

Newt laughs, clapping one hand over his mouth. Hermann wishes he would keep both hands on the wheel, but neglects to say so. “Oh my god, I did do that, didn’t I,” he giggles. “But to be fair, you did totally glare at me the whole time I was there.”

“I was so close to closing up, and then you wandered in. It was annoying,” Hermann protests. “And you kept looking at me weirdly.”

“Dude, I was checking you out.” 

Hermann starts. “Were you really?” he asks. Newt nods, smirking. “Oh. Huh. I did not realize that…”

Shaking his head, Newt mutters fondly, “Idiot.”

“You’re the idiot. Shut up.” 

They fall into silence for a beat, Hermann watching the road rushing by. It’s been ages since he’s been in a car. He tried to learn how to drive in high school but that was…an unpleasant experience. His older brother was not a very patient teacher, and the first lesson had ended with the two of them standing in a parking lot shouting at each other, and Hermann storming off angrily. He was three miles from home and had to walk the whole way. Hermann scowls. 

To banish these irritating memories, Hermann turns his gaze back to Newt, who had turned on the radio and is now passionately mouthing the words along to a song that Hermann doesn’t recognize. His floppy brown hair is particularly messy today, and not in his normal subtly styled way. He drums his fingers on the driving wheel in time to the music, and Hermann amusedly wonders if he is even capable of staying still. 

Newt catches him looking, and, pointedly not taking his eyes off the road, asks, “What?”

“Just wondering where we’re going,” Hermann responds. So that’s a lie, but it’s not as if he can just say that he was thinking how cute Newt is- and then he remembers that he _could_ say that now. But the mere thought of doing so makes him shift with embarrassment. 

He sighs. He really isn’t used to being in relationships. And to be honest, he was pretty terrible at it the few times he has tried in the past. He wonders if should tell Newt that - warn him, or something along those lines….maybe later. 

“Local theater,” Newt says, shrugging. “I was thinking we could - do you like Tolkien? Cuz _The Hobbit_ is in the theaters. And I like Tolkien.”

Hermann begins to smile. “Newt, I’m British, I read a lot, and I was a loner in high school. Of _course_ I like Tolkien,” he says. 

“I want to make fun of you, but I know exactly what you mean,” Newt says with a laugh. “Plus,” he adds, “There’s all the hot guys. That was definitely a bonus for me as a lonely weirdo in school.” 

“Legolas, or Aragorn?”

“Yes.” 

He laughs softly and agrees, “ _The Hobbit_ it is then.”

They arrive at the theater soon afterwards, which isn’t as empty as you might expect for the day after Christmas. Nonetheless, they easily get tickets for a showing in about ten minutes. Newt tries to buy Hermann’s ticket, but Hermann flat out refuses to let him do so. In revenge, Newt insists on buying snacks for both of them, which Hermann vows to not touch. This vow is broken about five seconds after they sit down in the dim theater, when he can’t resist stealing some of the buttery popcorn. Newt utters a smug “a-ha” when he catches Hermann at it, and Hermann throws a kernel at his head. And, as always, he has terrible aim, and hits the man sitting a seat over from Newt, who glares at them indignantly. Hermann sinks down in his seat, face burning, as Newt gasps with laughter. And then the movie starts. 

Around when the dwarves - the weirdly hot dwarves, as Newt later describes them - start singing in Bilbo’s dining room about the fall of the Lonely Mountain, Hermann nerves himself up to grab Newt’s hand. In the dim light of the fire that is flickering on screen, he can see Newt look over at him and smile gently, and can feel him weave his fingers through Hermann’s. He leans over and tenderly whispers, “Your hands are fucking freezing.”

Hermann snorts with unexpected laughter and the guy that he hit with popcorn glares at them again. 

After the movie ends - and Newt literally squeals, out loud, at the hug scene, and the popcorn guy looks as if he would like to murder both of them - the two emerge, blinking into the grey light. 

“It’s weird to go into a theater in the light and come out into the darkness, but I’m also always kind of confused when it isn’t dark out,” Newt remarks, looking up at the sky, which, though cloudy, is still bright.

“It is somewhat disorienting,” Hermann agrees. Newt mutters _disorienting _under his breath and shakes his head fondly.__

__They wend their way through the parking lot - slippery with yesterday’s rain and the salt scattered on the parking lot to melt the snow that still hasn’t come - in silence, until they find Newt’s car at last. Newt pauses in front of the door, fiddling with his keys, and says, “…so…now what?”_ _

__Hermann halts too. Now what, indeed? What does one normally do at this part of a ‘date?’ It’s rather embarrassing to discover that he…doesn’t know. A movie may be a fairly normal activity for a date, but he hasn’t gone on a date like this since…fuck. High school. And that was his one and only date in high school. And her mother drove them home, and Hermann had awkwardly kissed her in front of her house, and she had said, “You’re gay, aren’t you.” And that had been the end of that. And the few times he had had relationships in college hadn’t…really been like this. And also had mostly been terrible._ _

__“I’m really awful at relationships,” he blurts._ _

__Newt frowns as thoughtfully as if Hermann had just told him that he didn’t care for chocolate ice cream, or something equally inconsequential. “Oh. Okay. Me too. Do you wanna just get like, Chinese food or something, and take it back to my place?”_ _

__“Oh. Yes. That sounds good.”_ _

__“Cool,” Newt smiles._ _

__And they do that, and buy Chinese food from a seedy-looking place that Newt insists is delicious, and go back to his apartment - which is modest, but, Hermann has to admit, nicer than his own - and they eat Chinese on his couch and Newt tries to feed him noodles and Hermann refuses to let him do that, and they end up making a big mess and Hermann laughs so hard he gets tears in his eyes, and then Newt kisses him until he can’t see straight. And later he falls slowly asleep in Newt’s warm bed, with Newt sprawled over him, taking up far more space than someone that small should be able to, and Hermann thinks that this day might have been perfect._ _


	17. Pulling the Puzzles Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann has OCD moments, and I mean that as in, I really think he might be a little OCD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot what plot  
> also I swear I put a lot of thought into considering what movies Newt and Hermann would like. Way too much thought. I have whole scenes in my head that are just them talking about star trek and doctor who.  
> this picture was drawn by wisba.tumblr.com. THANK YOU~~
> 
> the title is from The Scientist again, still by Coldplay (that's not the only Coldplay song I know...but it is my favorite one)

December 27, 2012

Like yesterday, Hermann finds it disorienting to wake up under the sprawled weight of Newt - who is still asleep this time - and today it’s almost worse because he’s also in an unfamiliar room. But he figures it out quickly, and then closes his eyes with a smile, appreciating the warmth and comfort. Newt is heavy, but Hermann finds himself enjoying the feeling. It’s all rather new to him. He certainly didn’t have the type of relationship with the last guy he - dated isn’t the word, that’s not what they did, and both of them would have rather died than used a word like that - slept with where they would spend the night with each other, or share a bed. And normally Hermann doesn’t even like being _touched_ , and yet, he finds this, and all the other dumb shit, like holding Newt’s hand or being embraced by him, to be deeply satisfying. 

He fully expects to have a full-blown panic attack over that later, when he is alone, but right now he just can’t be bothered. 

It would be nice to fall back asleep, but his body has decided it’s awake, and soon enough he finds himself needing to get up - certain bodily demands presenting themselves. Plus, he suddenly remembers a certain promise he made about snooping, and right now would be a perfect time. He can’t deny that he is extremely curious about Newt’s apartment, and last night he was a little too distracted by Newt to pay much attention. 

He tries to wiggle out from underneath Newt, but when this yields no results, eventually resorts to shoving him off. Newt shows absolutely no reaction to this other than a small snuffling noise. Of course he’s a heavy sleeper, Hermann thinks with fond exasperation. Hermann can barely remember his way around Newt’s apartment, but there aren’t so many doors for this to be an issue - he opens one and finds a small storage closet beyond, but behind the second, half-closed door is the bathroom. 

It's like a war-zone, and Hermann just wants to _clean_ it. He stands in front of the sink for at least five minutes, staring down into its toothpaste and hair-gel encrusted depths in horror. The mirror is also splattered with water marks and what he is guessing is more hair-products, there is mold on the shower curtain, the bath-tub has weird stains, and the toilet is…better to not think about. He feels traumatized just by entering the damn room. 

When he manages at last to tear his eyes away from the ghastly sight of the sink, he sets about properly investigating the rest of the apartment, a fearful voice in the back of his mind wondering if the whole place is like the bathroom. 

Newt’s apartment is made up of a kitchen that was tiny and yet still noticeably larger than Hermann’s; an area that Hermann believes would be called a ‘breakfast nook’ - a small table, large enough for two, set in front of a window looking out onto the street - a living room with a couch, armchair, and small TV hanging from the wall; a bedroom; and a bathroom. The kitchen is pretty typical, if untidy enough to make Hermann worry about hygiene, and he does have to admit that Newt’s fridge is much better stocked than his own, even if it is mostly leftovers and beer. 

The living room is…chaos. The walls, like Hermann’s place, are plastered with posters - posters are so much cheaper than paint - but, unlike Hermann’s, these are slapped up in an apparently completely random way, leaving huge patches of wall bare, and several of the posters are almost falling down. They mostly seem to be band posters and, curiously, images of what Hermann is assuming is Godzilla. There are books everywhere, some tossed around so disrespectfully that Hermann flinches just to look at them. _Of course_ Newt is the kind of person to dog-ear interesting pages. There is an even mixture between books on biology and zoology, biographies of famous rock-stars, fantasy, and sci-fi. Hermann picks up a particularly well-worn copy of _Jurassic Park_ , the cover held on with tape. Certain pages are marked off with sticky notes, and various lines are underlined and annotated with illegible scribbles. Hermann has never read this novel before, but suddenly finds himself curious to do so. As well as the books, there is also an alarming amount of what seems to be pure junk - scraps of paper, empty take-out boxes, even some laundry that Hermann is hoping was clean - although he knows it probably isn’t. Leaning against the couch is a guitar. Hermann wonders if Newt can play it. He knows Newt is incredibly pretentious about music, and was appalled to discover that Hermann didn’t own an mp3 player of any kind. So…he probably can play it. Oh god, he’s probably in a band, a band full of hipster assholes, with some sort of pretentious name, and he’ll expect Hermann to come watch him play in an awful bar.

Hermann is surprised to realize that if that he would do it too. He would bitch and moan about it, and strenuously deny that he was bitching and moaning, but he would go and watch Newt play. He might even enjoy it. _You’re in serious trouble_ , he tells himself. 

Turning away from the guitar with a frown, Hermann notices a small entertainment center with a shelf full of DVDs below the television. Curious, he kneels before them and begins to thumb through the cases. The first one to catch his attention is, of course, the movie of _Jurassic Park_ , which, like the book, Hermann has not watched. Next to that, is…what surely must be every single Godzilla movie in existence, as well as several other movies he hasn’t heard of, but that, from the image on the cover, also seem to star some sort of giant monster. Hermann glances at the monster posters on the wall with a puzzled frown. Now that he thinks of it, there were also some posters of those in Newt’s room. 

Moving these aside, he notes that Newt also has all the _Lord of the Ring_ movies, _Star Wars_ , and the new _Star Trek_ movie - which Hermann wanted to hate, because what a travesty, to remake the classical show, only then he really enjoyed all the cast members and the effects, even if the story line was just…blasphemy. There are a lot of horror movies, mostly of the monster variety, and a variety of other movies, some of which Hermann has heard of and some he hasn’t. 

As he neatly replaces the DVD’s - barely repressing the urge to alphabetize them - his eyes fall on the framed pictures sitting on top of the entertainment center. There are three pictures. The first on the left shows two men and a boy, all dressed in fishing gear. The boy is proudly holding up a fish, grinning madly at the camera. The kid is clearly Newt, and, judging from the family resemblance shared between the three men in the photo, Hermann would guess that one of the two must be his father and the other perhaps an uncle or cousin. The photo on the far right again contains a young Newt, perhaps slightly older than in the first photo, together with an elegant woman who smiles knowingly out at the viewer. His mother? The background of the photo shows a city that Hermann doesn’t recognize, but would be willing to bet was somewhere in Europe, and Newt looks sunburned and cheerful. In the central photograph, a much younger version of Newt stands between the same elegant woman and one of the men from the first photograph. The young Newt is smiling in a child’s blissful way, but the smiles on the faces of the adults look far more forced. 

A loud yawn from behind announces to him that Newt has awoken at last. “I see you took up my offer to go through my stuff,” Newt remarks, walking over to him as Hermann gets to his feet. “Find anything interesting?”

“Good morning to you too,” Hermann says calmly. “Are these pictures of you and your family?”

“Oh, yeah….wow, you found my embarrassing kid pictures amazingly quickly.” 

“Well, you did have them right out in the open.”

Newt laughs. “You aren’t even gonna deny that they're embarrassing?”

“Oh, they’re not that bad…the fish one is nice.”

“That was a fun trip,” Newt says nostalgically. “My dad and my uncle took me camping out in the countryside, and we went fishing, and I caught this big-ass trout…good times.” 

“I hate camping,” Hermann tells him with a straight face, and Newt snorts at him. 

“Course you do. You only like nature if it's light miles away from us.”

Hermann nods. “In fact, I would like you a lot more if you were, say, a galaxy over. Maybe two. The Orion Nebula is rather nice, you know. You should look into it.” 

“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Newt giggles, and stands on his tiptoes to kiss Hermann. When he pulls away, he stares dreamily into Hermann’s eyes, and whispers lovingly, “You’re breath smells terrible.” 

With a choked laugh, Hermann shoves him away. “I hate you,” he says, covering his mouth with his hands. 

“You can borrow my tooth-brush,” Newt assures him. Hermann is horrified at this joke, then realizes Newt isn’t joking and feels positively disgusted.

“There’ s no way I’m doing that,” he declares. “Do you have any idea how incredibly unhygienic that is? I’d rather wait till I get home!”

Newt exaggeratedly pouts out his lips and scowls. “S’not gross, and who says I’m gonna let you go home, hmm?” 

“I have to leave eventually, Newt.”

“But whyyyyy?” he whines.

“I have to work, for one thing.” 

He gasps loudly, and claps one hand to his cheek, his eyes bugging out as if Hermann had said something terribly scandalous. “You’re planning to _work_? _Today_?” 

Hermann lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed with Newt’s antics. “Yes, I am.” 

Newt scowls, then says, “Can I come?”

“I doubt I could stop you,” Hermann snorts. “But eventually I am going to need some personal space, or I _will_ murder you.” Seeing Newt’s startled face, he hastily adds, “Nothing personal. I can’t handle any one for too long without wanting to kill them…Is that…okay?” The last few words come out suddenly uncertain. 

But, to his relief, Newt’s face quickly clears and he says cheerfully, “No, dude, I totally get it, it’s cool. I could drive you home soon, and then I’ll kinda chill here for a bit, then maybe meet you later at Striker’s?” 

Hermann nods, grateful that Newt seems to understand. “Sorry I’m such a…” he offers vaguely, but Newt quickly cuts him off.

“Seriously Herm, it’s fine. I mean, I’ve known you for a while now, so it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into!”

Hermann grimaces. That is not the most complimentary or comforting sentence he has ever heard. _I knew what I was getting into_ …what the hell is that? Like Newt’s the easiest either…

But Newt must hear how badly it comes out, because he frowns too and clarifies, “That came out wrong. I mean, I know what you’re like…and I _like_ that, you know? So you don’t have to apologize for that or whatever. I like you the way you are…you really blush easily, don’t you?” 

“Shut up,” Hermann mutters. “That was…” and then his words trail off into an unintelligible string of syllables.

“What? I can’t hear you, Herm, what?”

“It’s nothing!” Hermann says loudly, looking anywhere but in Newt’s eyes. Then he takes a deep breath and makes himself say, very fast, “I-like-you-the-way-you-are-too,” and then is struck dumb with embarrassment, and wonders if it’s possible to overheat from blushing. 

Newt is silent, and Hermann shrivels up and dies inside. He doesn’t know how, but he has clearly fucked this up somehow. He has fucked up, and now he will go home and crawl under his bed and never come out again and certainly never ever express his emotions to someone else ever again, because there is no way for that to ever work out. And then Newt says in a low voice, “You are just way too cute,” and kisses him, and the relief nearly makes Hermann light-headed. 

When he pulls away, Newt says, “Okay but your breath really does stink, so how about I take you home now?”

“…I really hate you.”


	18. You Told Your Friends, They All Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's because they lived them, Hermann, they _lived_ the star wars."  
>  "What the fuck are you going on about, Newt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god I'm so sorry this isn't a plot this is just Tendo being sassy. I dunno what the fuck this chapter is. Tendo hijacked it.  
> today's fanart was drawn by firehouselight.tumblr.com. THANK YOU
> 
> the chapter title comes from Whod Have Known by Lilly Allen

December 31, 2012

It takes Newt about ten minutes to decide that he’s bored with this movie, another five minutes to shift around on the couch in the hope that Hermann will notice he’s bored, then another five minutes of staring intently at Herm’s face to try and convey the message, and then a second to abruptly decide that Hermann’s lap looks comfortable, and a minute to strategically examine Hermann’s lap to determine how best to climb on it, and then about four minutes of his plan going horribly awry, so that by twenty five minutes into Star Wars: A New Hope, Hermann has dumped him onto the ground. 

“I take it back,” Newt complains, rubbing at his tailor bone, which he jolted when he fell. “You aren’t cute at all. You’re just rude. And sharp. Do you, like, sharpen your joints or something?”

“I’m not a seat, Newton,” Herm retorts. “And you’re not a fifteen year old girl, so please don’t behave as one. Sitting on my lap, that’s ridiculous, and I won’t stand for it.”

“Or sit either,” Newt mutters. 

Hermann raises a magnificently unimpressed eyebrow, and says loftily, “Look, you’re the one that insisted we watch this daft movie, so can you please stop wiggling around like a five year old?”

Newt sucks in a shocked breath at the description of Star Wars as ‘daft’ - entirely forgetting that he was the one that was bored to death by it a moment ago - and is fully prepared to berate Hermann for his flagrant disrespect toward some of the greatest movies in the world. Herm hasn’t even seen the movies before, how is that possible? And when, upon discovering this, Newt had used that entirely appropriate _How I Met Your Mother_ quote, he had found Herm also did not know that show. What a disgrace. But before he can get more than the gasp out, his phone in his pocket emits a dinosaur screech t to let him know he has a text. He abandons his rant in favor of reading the message, which he can tell annoys Hermann, and thus is just as good as any remark he could think up. 

_Yo brooo, im back in town, wanna hang?_

“Who is it?” Hermann, who has now abandoned the movie in favor of watching Newt, demands to know. 

“S’Tendo. He wants to hang out. I’ll just say no.” But even as Newt begins to type sorry and Hermann vaguely says, “Oh you don’t have to…” and clearly doesn’t mean it, Newt’s phone screeches again and a new message pops up.

_Just kidding, im already here. Lemme in._

Newt frowns at the screen, mouthing “wha-“ and then his doorbell rings. “Oh damn him,” he mutters crossly. 

“Is that him?” Hermann asks, looking at the door with widened eyes. 

“Yeah, sometimes he just kinda…pops up,” Newt says with a sigh. “No sense of boundaries, that one.” The bell buzzes again as if to agree with Newt. With a glare at the door, Newt climbs to his feet. “He won’t go away unless I let him in,” he direly predicts, then goes to let him in, flicking on the living room light - which had been off for the movie - as he passes by the switch. 

Tendo is standing outside the door, in the most aggressively cheerful holiday sweater that Newt has ever seen, holding two Styrofoam mugs of Dunkin Donuts coffee and a box of donuts. “Hey, merry nondenominational holidays and all that shit,” he greets Newt, handing him one of the coffees. “I woulda got one from Strikers, but I guess they’re closed this late in the d- Oh, there’s Hermann, I guess that explains that.” 

“Hello, Tendo,” Hermann says, sounding weirdly formal. He had been half-sprawled across Newt’s couch, but has moved since Newt got up to answer the door, and is now sitting stiffly on the couch with his legs crossed, looking blatantly uncomfortable. Newt remembers again that Hermann had, for some incredible reason, thought that he was dating Tendo. 

“Hey, Hermann,” Tendo smiles in a puzzled way, his eyebrows knitting together as he looks from Newt to Hermann, and then his eyes suddenly go wide, and he dramatically drops his coffee, which bursts open on Newt’s floor.. “Ohmygod you guys fucked,” he says, all in one breath. 

Hermann chokes, apparently on his own spit. Newt frowns at the cup on the ground, grumbling “Dammit Tendo, just because I have wooden floors…” and then trails off as he sees it isn’t spilling.

“Like I would waste coffee like that,” Tendo tells him, and then advises Hermann, “Deep breaths.” 

Hermann finally manages to catch his breath, and uses it to gasp out “What the fuck-“ glaring at both of them. 

“Tendo has psychic abilities to tell when people have had sex,” Newt says, picking up Tendo’s cup, which is, sure enough, bone dry, and tossing it in the vague direction of the trash. He misses. Hermann is still busy staring at Tendo with an appalled expression to even notice.

“It’s a gift _and_ a curse,” Tendo states solemnly. “Now, how fucking dare you.”

Newt and Hermann say “What-” in the same instant.

“Newton Geiszler, how could you bang the dude you’ve been obsessing over all semester and _not_ tell me? Immediately?”

“It’s only been like five days, Tendo, calm down.” 

“But it’s _Hermann_ , I mean, I’ve had to listen to you bitch about him for the last two months or whatever, I think I deserve to know!” 

“I have not bitched,” Newt mutters, crossing the room to flop down in the couch next to Hermann. Tendo sits down on the armchair and opens the box of donuts, without making any motion to share it with the other two. 

“Like a little girl,” Tendo assures him. “It was really pathetic,” he adds, turning to Hermann. “Sad, really. And then there was you-“ Hermann looks alarmed at suddenly having the focus on him “-with your weird conviction we were dating, and being too…I dunno, dumb to ask. Seriously. Do you two know how agonizing it was for me to watch this go on? I deserve to get the vicarious thrill of knowing you finally _did_ it.” 

Newt rolls his eyes, starts to say, “Who’s bitching now?” and then pauses. “Wait, how did you know that Herm thought we were dating?” 

“Oh,” Hermann says suddenly. “Tendo was the one that told me you guys weren’t…I- forgot to tell you that part.” 

“Oh, really? Wait- What? Why? When?”

“It was early December,” Hermann explains, “but…actually, why did you talk to me that day?” 

“Oh, riiiiight….Well, okay, see, Newt was being hella lame, and totally moping around cuz he thought you thought he was like gross or gay or something-“

“That’s not-“ Newt interrupts, and is interrupted in turn by Tendo. 

“Okay honestly Newt, you were being pretty annoying, I wasn’t paying attention,” Tendo says, and Newt subsides with a frown. “Anyway, it was really annoying, and I was pissed, so when I saw Hermann that day, I got kinda mad. You know, like who the hell is this dude to make my friend be so irritating, I mean sad, so I was gonna go tell him off and be all ‘you’d be lucky to have him’ or whatever, only then he got pissed too and I realized he thought we were dating, so…plus, it was really obvious Hermann was jealous and totally into Newt, so I decided to just tell him Newt and I weren’t a couple, and then…let it unfold from there, you know? Only then, I was expecting it take like a day or two from there, and you guys dragged it out for another month. So that was annoying. Ooh, are you guys watching Star Wars?” 

Newt realizes his mouth is hanging upon slightly and shuts it with a click. He can’t decide whether to be touched or angry. Hermann appears to be similarly disturbed. “Okay, I guess thanks for going to stand up for me or whatever - though it’s totally not your business - but, um, are you telling me you knew, like a month ago, that Hermann was into me? And you just…didn’t say anything?”

Tendo has a giant donut shoved into his mouth, so he nods instead of saying anything. 

“Dude,” Newt sighs, shaking his head. “Why the fuck didn’t you?”

Managing to swallow part of the donut, Tendo explains through a still crumb-filled mouth, “Prime Directive.” 

Hermann snorts incredulously and shakes his head. 

“Dude, are you using Star Trek rules on my life.”

Tendo nods. 

“I hate you.” 

“S’illogical.” 

“Oh my god shut up.” 

Tendo cackles, spraying crumbs across Newt’s living room, and Newt can feel Hermann shudder beside him. He grins despite himself and comfortingly pats Hermann’s hand, which Tendo certainly does not fail to notice. 

“So, are you guys like, just fucking, or are you actually dating or whatever? And since when?”

“Uh, dating I guess,” Newt says, glancing uncertainly at Hermann. Hermann, who still mostly turns red and mumbles when Newt talks about ‘feelings’ or anything like that, studiously doesn’t meet Newt’s eye. But he does flip the hand that Newt had just touched so that it is palm up and laces his fingers through Newt’s, which is practically a marriage proposal from him. "Since Christmas."

Tendo tsks and shakes his head sadly. “You guys are gonna be super cute and couple-y and gross, aren’t you.” 

“Sure am,” Newt agrees cheerfully, and ostentatiously brings the hand he is holding up to his mouth, kissing Hermann’s knuckles. Hermann hisses “stop that,” and jerks it away.  
“Ha, jk, no we’re not, because Herm doesn’t have an ounce of cuteness in him,” Newt announces, grinning. He knew Herm would react like that. “He nearly decked me for trying to kiss him in the café yesterday.” 

“I did not,” Hermann protests. “And there was a customer right there! What would Herc think if I drove his customers away with displays of PDA in the middle of his café?”

“Is Herc that delicious ginger Aussie?” Tendo asks. Newt chokes on laughter and Hermann makes his scandalized face. 

As Hermann mutters “delicious” disbelievingly, Newt confirms that is indeed Herc. 

"Wait," Tendo says suddenly, sitting up. "Since Christmas? Weren't you supposed to be with your mom?"

Newt grimaces and says, "Oh, yeah, I was but..."

"She bailed," Tendo fills in with a sardonic nod. "What a fucking shock."

"Hey, you shut up," Newt snaps. 

"His mom is _crazy_ ," Tendo says to Hermann. 

"She is not," Newt growls angrily. "Yeah, okay, she's not always the most reliable, but..."

"She's crazy," Tendo repeats. "I mean, no offense, and she's super cool, definitely way cooler than my mom, but she's also like, whoa." Tendo tilts his head back thoughtfully. "You'll probably be just like her some day," he remarks. 

"Shut up, Tendo," Newt hisses, sounding genuinely angry. 

"What about you Herm, why-"

"No," Hermann interrupts firmly. 

"What?"

"It's not Herm, it's Hermann."

"...Newt calls you Herm."

"Yes, _he_ does," Hermann says flatly. 

Tendo pauses, looking at Hermann consideringly. Then he flashes a thumbs-up at Newt. "This one's scary. I like it." Newt, still rather pissed, just glares at him. Tendo continues to be unaffected by this. 

"So, _Hermann_ , why didn't you go home for Christmas?"

"Oh...Germany's so far away..." he responds vaguely, unwilling to go into that whole mess with Tendo. Or really anyone, other than Newt. 

"Oh right, you're from Germany," Tendo nods. Then he frowns, as if considering a sudden thought, and adds, "Isn't there a kinda famous German scientist named Gottlieb? A contemporary one, I mean? Any relation?"

With a grimace, Hermann admits, "Yes, he's my father, actually." The problem with having your father be a famous scientist is that, well, he's famous. So people have heard of him, and Hermann hates being connected back to his father. 

Newt jerks out of his sulk. "Wait, what? Lars Gottlieb is your _father_?"

"Oh," Hermann says suddenly. "Oh, I forgot to tell you that, didn't I?

"Hermannnnn!" Newt wails. "Your father is a famous scientist and you 'forgot' to tell me?"

Hermann scowls at him. "Yes," he snaps. "I don't really like talking about it, I told you that!"

"Ooh, sudden tension," Tendo whispers. 

"Shut _up_ , Tendo!" Newt growls. 

"What, what, I wasn't talking about you guys! Han Solo just showed up! Cantina scene, remember? Stop bickering and focus on that." 

Newt frowns at the screen, and then glances back at Herm, who is staring stiffly at the television but clearly not watching it. 

"This is the worst _Star Wars_ watching date ever," Newt mutters, then, with a sigh, leans on Hermann. "Sorry."

"...s'fine."

"For Tendo, I mean. Sorry he's such a _git_."

Tendo flips him the bird without looking. Newt can feel Herm smile faintly without looking at him. "You sound like an idiot when you use British slang."

"Fock you. Ponce. Tosser." 

"Same to you."

"I'm gonna puke if you don't stop that," Tendo says loudly, and with shared grins they fall into silence, other than Hermann occasionally muttering that various things make no scientific sense, and the other two shushing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [whispers if you wanna know what Tendo's sweater looks like then you should go look at kaijurrrory's blog b/c in my head it totally looked like that one drawing I hope that's okay]


	19. All Around Me New Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Chuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummmm okay there are still two more fan-arts of my story left but i forgot to ask those people for permission to include them SO wait until the next chapter please :)  
> (19 chapters, this is getting ridiculous. and no end in sight...)
> 
> this song title is The Ocean by Tegan and Sara (and is maybe me poking fun at chuck just a little bit)

January 2, 2013

“If the store is empty, then I can be gross and PDA, right?” 

“I’m not gonna have sex with you on the armchairs, Newt.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “I was totally joking when I said that, okay. Let it go. Although if you change your mind, let me know. But no, I just meant, can I like, kiss you?” 

Hermann frowns suspiciously at him, then relents. “Okay, but don’t be…ridiculous.”

“I don’t think I’m capable of that,” Newt mutters, then leans over the counter and kisses Herm on the lips with exaggerated chastity, barely brushing his lips. 

When the café is mostly empty, the bells over the door have a way of sounding incredibly, threateningly loud. 

Hermann jerks back, and even Newt looks as if he’s considering feeling guilty as he straightens up. They both turn to look at the door, Hermann sucking in his breath when he sees who is standing there. Of course it’s Herc and Chuck. Isn’t that just how the universe works? Herc is smirking, blue eyes sparkling with barely repressed mirth. Chuck, on the other hand, has an expression that bears a striking resemblance to a husband from a soap opera who has just discovered his wife is cheating on him, possibly with his evil twin brother. 

“Had a good break then?” Herc asks, walking into the shop. 

“Pretty good,” Newt agrees innocently. “You?”

“Oh, it was decent,” Herc nods. 

Chuck, who is still frozen in the doorway and who up until this point had seemed to be rendered wordless, gasps, “You two were-“ and then whispers, in an utterly horrified voice, “ _kissing_.”

“Oh yes, I did notice that,” Herc adds, as if it only just occurred to him to bring this up. 

Newt seems to be trying desperately hard to not burst out laughing, and Hermann fixes him with a disapproving stare. This has very little effect, other than perhaps making it worse. He presses one hand to his mouth to hold in the laughter and attempts to control his face. 

“Yes, we’re, er…”

“Are you _boyfriends_?” Chuck demands loudly. 

Hermann and Newt both hesitate, looking at each other, and then Hermann, looking away and attempting to not blush, says, “Yes.” 

Chuck gasps and stares at them both, mouth open. 

“Took you long enough,” Herc says brightly. Chuck turns his appalled gaze to his father, looking deeply wounded and personally betrayed. “Thought you two’d be making eyes at each other over that counter without doing anything for the rest of the year….guess this means we’ll be seeing even more of Geiszler though, eh?” 

“If you’d prefer he didn’t-“ Hermann says promptly, and Newt shoots him an indignant look. 

“Nah, so long as you don’t, you know, make out in front of the customers.”

“I told you,” Hermann hisses smugly. Newt frowns and stares sadly into the distance.

“Buck up, Chuck, you had to know this day was coming,” Herc adds without mercy, looking back at his son, still standing dejectedly in the doorway. 

Chuck sticks out his bottom lip sulkily, then suddenly bends a fierce gaze on Newt. “I don’t like you,” he announces, narrowing his eyes. It might have been a threatening expression if he wasn’t nine. 

“Noted,” Newt says, his voice crackling with repressed laughter. 

“I’ll be watching you,” Chuck adds darkly. 

“Don’t be rude, Chuck,” Herc instructs his son, although he too sounds as if he is about to laugh.

Chuck shoots one last reproachful glare at Newt, then goes to sit down in the corner of the café, scowling ferociously the whole way. 

“Wow, I better watch my back,” Newt says, trying to look worried, but instead just looking deeply amused. 

“What…just happened?” Hermann mutters, glancing over at Chuck, who is watching them suspiciously. 

Newt rolls his eyes. “Dude, I _told_ you, the kid has a major crush on you. This is probably his first heartbreak.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermann snaps.

Newt starts to say, “I told you I’m not capable of that,” but Herc interrupts him. 

“No, I’m pretty sure Geiszler is right about this.”

“What?”

“You’re Chuck’s first love,” Herc says, straight-faced. Hermann gapes at him and Newt smirks smugly. “I can’t believe he’s getting to be that age,” Herc adds, shaking his head. “I swear he was only two yesterday…I’m probably gonna have to give him the… _talk_ soon.” He sighs deeply. 

Newt and Hermann simultaneously grimace. “Good luck with that,” Newt says to Herc. 

Herc sighs even more deeply. “Being a parent is hard,” he mutters, and, clearly worrying about ‘the talk,’ disappears into the back office. 

“I remember getting that talk,” Newt reminisces. “My parents, per normal, totally failed to discuss that amongst themselves, so I got it twice. My dad was all weird, vague hints, and my mom just flat out told me how it works.” He frowns. “Possibly in a little too much detail.”

“That could explain a lot,” Hermann remarks. 

Newt sneers at him. “Fuck you too,” he says, barely remembering to keep his voice quiet when he swears. “What about you then?”

“What about me?”

“How’d your…talk go?” Newt asks, wiggling his eyebrows meaningfully on the word ‘talk.’

“Oh. Oh no,” Hermann shakes his head. “No, my father never did that.”

Newt stares at him. “You never got the talk from your parents- parent?”

“They told us the basics at school, and other than that, we were…left to educate ourselves,” Hermann says with a shrug. 

“…that’s kind of horrifying. And, um, my turn to say ‘that explains a lot.’” Newt tells him, badly mimicking Hermann’s accent on the last part. “And wait, who’s ‘we’?”

“My siblings and I.”

“Your- fuck! You have siblings?”

“Oh. Yes. Three of them. Older brother and sister, and a younger brother.”

Newt frowns at him a moment, then flicks his eyes down to the counter. In an overly casual tone, he says, “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, huh.”

Nerves prickle across Hermann’s skin. “I…don’t talk about myself much,” he says, struggling to keep his tone light. “Do you…mind?”

Frowning thoughtfully, Newt considers this a moment, then takes a deep breath, shrugs, and looks at Hermann again. “I guess it just means I have a lot to learn.” He nods. “I’ll have to figure out ways to get you to talk,” he says, his voice suddenly deepening, and quirks his eyebrows meaningfully. 

“Why are you talking like that?” Hermann asks suspiciously. 

Newt slumps his shoulders. “Dude, I’m trying to be like, seductive, or something,” he explains, waving his hands in frustration. “Could you not tell?”

Hermann tries to nod, and instead laughs. Newt looks hurt. “You just sounded kind of evil,” Hermann snickers. “You’re so dumb.” 

“Fuck you,” Newt mumbles. 

“Aw, you’re cute,” Hermann says teasingly. Newt jerks his head up, looking at him with widened eyes. Hermann suddenly realizes what he just said and his face instantly flames.

“Duuuuude, you called me ‘cute,’” Newt says, his face breaking into a huge smile. “Aw, that’s the first time.” 

“Shut up,” Hermann mutters. 

“You’re cute too,” Newt tells him, leaning across the counter to kiss him again. 

Chuck, sitting alone in the corner, looks as if he is about to cry.


	20. Recount The Night That I First Met Your Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> parents amirite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twenty chapters oh my GOD??? Thank you all for sticking with me through this random, fluffy, horrendously cliche story of nerds in love.  
> thank you to pacific rim wiki for providing some of the random background info on Newt that is in this chapter  
> this chapter's fanart was drawn by the incredibly talented geniusbee.tumblr.com and wow it is very seductive  
> thank you SO MUCH
> 
> I'm laughing b/c one of my favorite songs has a line that, out of context, exactly describes this chapter. Thus it is the title; it is from Still Into You by Paramore

January 19, 2013

With the resumption of school, the two have slightly less chances to spend time together. Newt is being a TA for an undergraduate class and has to spend a lot of time attempting to teach freshman the basics of biology, and then coming home and complaining to Hermann about how stupid they are. Hermann suspects that Newt is probably a terrible TA, but doesn’t say as much. At the very least, his students seem to like him, most likely due to his laid back attitude. As well as working, both are taking difficult classes, and much of the free time they do have together is spent silently studying - well, not silent exactly, because Newt often mutters and hums to himself, and when he has a hard time focusing he tends to start bothering Hermann. They have more than a few arguments due to that. 

But today, Hermann is determined to spend as much time together with Newt without doing any homework as possible. Because today is Newt’s birthday. Hermann may be horrible at being a boyfriend, he may be awful at doing romantic things, he may also be awful at celebrating birthdays (okay, so cake and presents…what the fuck else are you supposed to do?), but, by Jove, he is going to make this nice. 

But as it turns out, it all goes horribly awry.

First off, someone spills their drink at the café, and Hermann gets held up there, and ends up getting out of work a full hour late. He realizes he left Newt’s present - a history of kaiju in cinema, because Newt is fucking obsessed with those things - back at his apartment, and has to run there to grab it. And then, when he gets to Newt’s apartment at last and knocks on the door, the person to open the door is not Newt.

The door is flung dramatically open as Hermann taps at it, which Hermann does not initially think much of, because Newt likes to do things like that, only then, instead of Newt, the person revealed in the doorway is a slim, elegant woman, brown hair in a chignon, looking at Hermann haughtily and not saying a word. 

There is an instant where he is left standing awkwardly before her, one arm still raised to knock, looking back at the strange woman, wondering if he has somehow come to the wrong door. But no, he can see Newt’s messy apartment beyond her, and then there comes the familiar sound of Newt’s shrill voice, shouting, “ _Mom_ ,” in aggravated tones, and Newt appears beside the woman in the doorway.

“Hermann!” he says breathlessly, looking peculiarly horrified. 

Hermann darts his eyes between the two. _Mom_? Now that he looks, he can see a similarity between the two. “Hello,” he responds, dropping his arm at last. 

“You’re _here_!” Newt exclaims, rather as if Hermann shouldn’t be. He is staring at Hermann very meaningfully, as if he’s trying to convey some message, but Hermann has no idea what it is.

“Um, yes? It’s…your birthday today, right?”

“Oh yeah, but, I…I sent you that _text_ , remember?”

“My phone went dead today,” Hermann explains, increasingly feeling as if he is missing out on something.

Newt grimaces and starts to say something else, but suddenly his mother, who has been staring consideringly at Hermann this whole time, says loudly, with a familiar German accent, “For god’s sake, Newton, aren’t you going to invite the boy in and introduce us?”

Newt flicks his gaze nervously at her, then at Hermann, looks panicked, and then reluctantly steps back out of the doorway. “Come in, Hermann,” he says. Hermann, partially due to Newt’s dark tone and partially because of the entirely disturbing way his mother is examining him, has a momentary temptation to run as far as he can. Instead, as Newt’s mother also moves out of the way, he cautiously steps into the apartment.

“Mother, this is Hermann Gottlieb. Hermann, this is my mom, Monica Schwartz,” Newt introduces them, coming to stand by Hermann. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Hermann offers, doing his best to sound polite and likeable and not at all like someone who is internally panicking over unexpectedly meeting his boyfriend’s mother less than a month after they’ve started dating. 

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Monica returns, which is not at all terrifying. Then, turning to Newt, she casually adds “This is the boy then? He’s much…thinner than I expected. And he looks so uptight. Have you even gotten him to put out yet?”

Hermann stares at her in shock as Newt squeals, “Mother!” his voice the most appalled Hermann has ever heard. Did that really possibly happen? Did she just blatantly say that, to her own son, right in front of him? He’s so shocked that he doesn’t realize that the latter parts of what she said were in German until Newt shouts, “Hermann speaks German, I _told_ you that!” 

Monica gasps and puts one hand to her cheek in a way that is not at all convincing. “Does he?” she says, clearly faking horror. “How rude of me. My apologies.”

Hermann, still wondering if this is actually happening, manages to respond, “It’s fine.” He feels oddly as if he is in a dream. 

“God, Mom!” Newt moans, putting one hand over his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hermann switches his disbelieving gaze to Newt. Did he just swear at his own mother? And she seems so unconcerned by that! Hermann can’t even imagine how his own father would react to one of his children speaking to him like that. He certainly wouldn’t say, as Newt’s mother does, “Oh calm down, darling, it was a silly mistake. And your young man seems fine with it.”

Newt looks at Hermann and shakes his head apologetically. Hermann is certain that he does not look at all fine with what is happening. “My mom decided to drop into to see me for my birthday,” he grits out through his teeth, adding with a snarl, “unexpectedly.”

“Well, I did feel rather bad about missing Christmas,” she says airily, walking over to Newt’s armchair and sitting down gracefully. Hermann remembers Newt’s hurt face that day and feels a sudden stab of anger at her, but Newt merely rolls his eyes. 

“Should I…go?” Hermann asks Newt. “So you can…spend time with your mother?”

The relief that flickers into Newt’s eyes is apparent, and Hermann might feel kind of hurt if he didn’t suspect that it was less about Hermann and more about Newt's clearly fucking crazy mother. He starts to say “That would probably be for the be-“ but his mother speaks over him as if he hadn’t said a word. 

“Oh no, I insist you stay, I do like meeting Newton’s lovers. So nice getting to know all of them.”

Newt hisses “Mom,” as Hermann, rendered speechless, mouths _all of them_.

“What is it, darling?” she asks, the expression on her face remarkably similar to the one that Newt makes when he knows he has done something bad and is pretending to not know that. 

_All of them?_

“You know goddamn well,” Newt growls, then turns to Hermann. “It’s not like-“ he hastily starts, but Hermann shakes his head wordlessly and Newt, grimacing as if he accidentally licked a lemon, grinds to a stop. 

_All of them._

Hermann ferociously pushes those words out of his head. _Later_ , he decides. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Newt anxiously assures Hermann. 

“Newton darling, what is wrong with you?” Monica asks, looking at him severely from under perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Why don’t you want your young man to stay?” She lets out a tiny gasp again, this one sounding just as a false as the previous one. “You aren’t embarrassed of him are you, darling? You know I wouldn’t judge you. Youth is meant for experimenting, even if you do encounter some terribly unsuitable people-

“No, mom, I’m fucking embarrassed by _you_!” Newt shouts. Hermann wants absolutely to be anywhere else in the world. “You always act like this around whoever I’m seeing, and it’s horrible! Why can’t you just be normal for once! Do you have any idea how many people you’ve scared away!”

Monica actually seems hurt. “I’m just trying to look out for you-“

“Well don’t! I’m not a child, I can take care of myself! And I actually really like Hermann okay, so I’m not gonna let you scare him away!”

“Um, I’ll just go, shall I?” Hermann manages to edge in. Newt, breathing heavily, turns to look at him. 

“That’d probably be best,” he growls. 

Hermann starts to back toward the door, then remembers the present he is still holding under his arm. “Oh, um, happy birthday, Newt,” he says, handing Newt the present, then, with a quick, nervous glance at Monica sitting thunderously on the other side of the room, leans in and kisses Newt for a second on the lips. “Bye.”

“Thanks,” Newt mutters. “I’ll - I’ll call you later.” Hermann nods, attempts to smile at him, and then leaves the apartment in a way that he hopes doesn’t look like he’s fleeing. 

He walks home through the cold air, hands thrust deeply into his pockets, frowning over that deeply peculiar encounter. He’s never actually met the parents of someone he was dating before, but he’s pretty sure that, ideally, it wouldn’t go like that. On the other hand, he reflects, it’s nice to know that other people also have relationships with their parents that mostly consist of shouting at them. Although…he certainly can’t imagine ever being that rude to his own father. He said some pretty awful things the last time they spoke, but it’s not quite the same. Also, he reflects, saying those things had concluded in him not speaking to his father since, whereas with Newt it seemed clear that was just how his relationship with his mother worked, with no trace of that being anything either of them would end it over. 

_Family is difficult_ , Hermann concludes gloomily as he reaches his building. He hopes Newt is okay. He makes sure to plug his phone in immediately so that Newt will be able to contact him later, and then fidgets on his couch for a few hours waiting for that call. He notes with a flash of guilt that once his phone charges enough to turn back on, it receives a text from Newt reading _Dont come over for fucks sake do NOT ill explain ltr_

Newt calls at last around midnight, Hermann answering nearly before the first ring ends. 

“Newt?”

“Dude. That was the worst. Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Hermann asks, concern creeping in despite his attempts to keep his voice calm.

“What? Oh yeah, dude, I’m fine, I just, you know, ugh. She’s so exhausting. Crazy woman.”

“…you seemed pretty upset.”

“Oh, the yelling…yeah, pretty much any conversation with my mother involves shouting. No big deal.”

“I…see?”

“Yeah, but sorry she was being such a…bitch, basically.”

“It’s…fine. Not your fault.”

“She just fucking popped up out of nowhere.” Hermann hears a sigh crackle over the line. “I guess it’s nice that she wanted to make up for Christmas, but I wish she would call or something first. She’s always been like that. Ugh.”

“Family is always complicated,” Hermann agrees sympathetically.

Newt sighs again, then bursts out, “She’s just basically awful at being a parent. Which she knows, I think. So, it’s like, the half of the time she doesn’t even bother trying. When I was a kid, she was basically never there. She’s travels a lot for work, so that was my parent’s excuse for it, but we all knew that she just didn’t want to…like, raise me. Or whatever. I mean, it’s not that awful, I guess, cuz my dad did a way better job on his own then she could have, but it still kinda sucks. And then, the other half of the time, it’s like she suddenly becomes aware that she totally fucked up, and she tries way too hard and is awful at it.”

Hermann is very quiet. He can’t stop thinking, _at least she tries_ , but he knows that probably isn’t what Newt wants to hear. But he’s always been terrible at comforting people, so he isn’t really sure of what to say. Eventually he offers, “I’m sorry. That sounds hard…” It’s completely not enough, and he can hear that. 

“Sorry for bitching,” Newt says, sounding annoyed at Hermann now.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Don’t apologize, I completely understand. I’m just - terrible at this.”

Newt goes quiet, then says more calmly, “Yeah, I know…I just…ugh. You know?”

Hermann nods, then remembers he is on the phone. “Yes, I do.”

Newt laughs, a little bitterly. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

There’s another pause, filled with only the faint static of the phone, then Hermann says in a forcedly bright voice, “Well, happy birthday.”

Newt’s laugh is more honest this time. “Thanks, dude. This isn’t even my worst birthday. One time my parents just screamed at each other all day. That was good times. Oh, but actually, before I forget, that book was fucking awesome. Thanks. So cool.”

“And you call me a nerd,” Hermann responds disdainfully. 

“You totally are. But so am I, so that’s cool. See, that’s why we work.”

Hermann smiles, privately pleased that Newt can’t see him. It’s perfectly childish, the way stray remarks like that make him happy. 

“By the way, I keep meaning to ask, when’s your birthday?”

“June…oh damn, I always forget the date. The sixth?”

“…dude, are you kidding?”

“Maybe it’s the seventh…what do you mean?”

“You can’t remember your own birthday?”

“No wait, it’s definitely the ninth.”

“Duuuude.”

“What?”

“How can you not remember your own birthday?”

Hermann rolls his eyes, even though Newt can’t see him. “Birthdays are perfectly arbitrary celebrations, Newton, and I simply don’t see the importance of it. It’s not like forgetting the date will cause me to cease aging. What’s the point in celebrating it?”

It’s odd how he can hear Newt frowning even though such an action makes no sound. But he’s certain that he knows precisely what expression Newt must be making at this moment. “You’re so full of shit.” 

“Oh come on-“

Newt interrupts him. “If birthdays are so pointless, then how come you bought me a birthday present and stuff?"

“I am capable of understanding that birthdays are meaningful to the general population, Newton. I’m not a complete jerk, you know.”

“1. Yes, you are. 2. I seriously hate when you call me Newton. You sound like my mom. 3. I still hold you are full of shit.”

“Oh, and you’re such a nice person.”

“…that’s fair. But you know what, I’m still totally gonna celebrate your birthday. I’m gonna celebrate it so hard. Birthday cake and streamers and all that shit. I would have a surprise party, but I don’t think you have enough friends.”

Hermann responds “Fuck you,” lightly, but inwardly his mind has ground to a halt. Newt is…Newt is planning for his birthday. His birthday, which is in June. _Six_ months from now. That’s longer than they’ve even known each other, and Newt is expecting for them to still at least be close enough for him to celebrate his birthday? Not that Hermann is planning for them to not be. But _six_ \- he hasn’t even thought about that far ahead! Six months. That’s half a year. The probability of them still being together is - and they’ve barely been together a month, not even, it’s only been-

He shakes himself furiously out of these anxious thoughts. 

“I’ll do that too,” Newt is promising, in that voice that he seems to think is sexy even though to Hermann it mostly sounds as if Newt is trying to sound like a mustache-twirling villain, and it takes Hermann a moment to realize that Newt is responding to the last thing Hermann said out loud. 

“I look forward to it,” Hermann forces himself to say. It comes out sounding rather challenging. Well, if Newt can plan way too far into the future, so can Hermann. 

Newt just laughs at him. He does that a lot. Hermann would mind more if he didn’t have such a nice laugh. 

“Well, it’s getting kinda late, and I know how early-to-bed-early-to-rise you are.”

“Some of us actually have to do things with our lives that demand we have energy, Newton.”

“OMG stop calling me that.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Ugh. Okay, what I was trying to say was, good night. Asshole.”

“Good night, _Newton_.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Now that I’ve met your mother I’m not sure I can agree with that statement.”

“Wow, you suck,” Newt says, but he’s laughing. “But, um, thanks for the gift and uh, listening to me whine. Night.”

“…you’re welcome. Good-bye.”

The line clicks dead, and Hermann, sighing, flops back onto the couch. 

“You are so fucked,” he tells himself, not for the first time. It’s probably not the last time either.


	21. A Phrase To Cut These Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> will the axolotls never end?  
> (no)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway, this adorable little comic (of pretty much my favorite scene) is drawn by geiiszler.tumblr.com.  
> this title is from Wake Up by Coheed and Cambria

February 16, 2013

Hermann had classes and work on Thursday, and disdainfully informed Newt that of course he wasn’t going to skip those just for a silly holiday that was mainly meant to sell chocolates to young men wishing to get laid. Newt told Hermann that yeah, duh that's what Valentine's Day is for and he _does_ want to get laid and why are you so un-fucking-romantic. And then they bickered for ten minutes straight, concluding with Newt making Hermann to promise to at least spend Saturday with him on the condition that Newt paid for everything, because Hermann was unwilling to spend money on this ridiculous holiday.

God, he’s such a prick sometimes. 

Newt is gonna make this Saturday so fucking good and so cavity inducing-ly sweet that Hermann will have to fall to his knees and, weeping bitter tears, admit that Newt was right and extremely sexy and that stupid holidays do matter. And, okay, so there’s no way that’s gonna actually happen, like, ever - is Hermann even capable of tears? Robots probably can’t cry - but he is determined to make today fun. 

He shows up at Hermann’s place at a time that is early for him and mid-morning for Hermann - the small amount of sleep that man can function on strongly supports the concept of him being a robot - blowing a kiss at Hermann when he peers out the window to see who it is - like it’d be anyone else. Even from four stories down he can see Hermann roll his eyes. 

He digs a chocolate out of his pocket as he’s walking up the rickety stairs, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth just before he reaches Hermann’s landing. Hermann is standing in the doorway waiting for him, looking distinctly unamused. Oh, he’s gonna be like that, is he? Newt smiles saucily at him, walks right up to him and grabs him by the collar to haul him down to face level so he can kiss him. He’s far too tall. 

“Did…did you just slip a chocolate in my mouth when you kissed me?” Hermann asks him, swallowing. 

“Yup. Happy late Valentine’s day.”

“Newt that is…disgusting. That’s been in your _mouth_.”

Newt sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, Hermann, so has your tongue. And your d-“

“Not in the fucking hall way!” Hermann hisses, getting that adorably scandalized look he makes when Newt says appalling things. Possibly Newt really enjoys that expression and tries to provoke it on purpose. Herm grabs Newt’s arm and drags him back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him. “My super already hates me, I don’t need complaints from my neighbors.”

“Listen, Herm, I think if they were gonna complain about us…they would have already. It’s not like we’re quiet.”

“I hate you.”

Newt giggles. 

“No, really, I do.”

“Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that. Okay, get your coat, I wanna go.”

Hermann obeys, but he’s grumbling darkly under his breath the whole time. “Where are we going?” he asks as he pulls on shoes. 

“That’s a surprise,” Newt warbles.

“Oh no.”

“You are such a _killjoy_. I promise it’ll be fun, okay, I guarantee, so stop…scowling.”

Hermann flips him off. 

“I’ve been a bad influence on you,” Newt mumbles as he pulls the door open again, holding it for Herm like a proper gentleman.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” Hermann smirks. 

They continue arguing down the stairs and into Newt’s car, and then Newt turns the radio on increasingly loud until Hermann is shouting at him over the sound of Coheed and Cambria. Newt sings blithely along and pretends to not hear him. Hermann falls silent at last when they stop at a red light and he notices they are getting dirty looks from the people in the next car over. Newt just smirks maniacally at them and doesn't give a shit, but Hermann looks embarrassed, so Newt turns the radio down the tiniest bit for his sake. 

After that they chat more peacefully, and Hermann tells him about Chuck getting into a fight with a girl at his school who gave him a nose bleed and generally kicked his ass, and Newt laughs so hard that Hermann starts shouting at him to keep his eyes on the road, and Newt tells him he worries too much. They pass the city limits and drive through the flat grassy bits between the next big city.

“Are you taking me out to the countryside to murder me?” Hermann asks abruptly, frowning out at the featureless fields, brownish-grey from the winter, interspersed with a few miserable patches of snow. “Because you’ll definitely get caught. Chuck, at the very least, would instantly rat you out.” 

“No, Hermann, I am not plotting to murder you. God.”

“Well, where are we going? I hope you’re not planning an idyllic picnic or something. It’s cold as fuck. Also, I hate the countryside.”

“Calm the fuck down, we’re just going to the next city over. We’ll be there in like ten minutes. And seriously, do you hate everything?”

“Yes, but where are we going?” Hermann demands again, obviously ignoring the last part of what Newt said. That’s probably because it’s true. 

“You really can’t stand not knowing something, can you?” Newt says, amused. 

“Oh, and you can?” he snaps. 

That’s fair, so instead of responding, Newt smirks at him knowingly, certain it’ll drive him mad. It does. 

At last - it’s only about ten minutes later, actually, but from the impatience that Hermann is giving off in waves you’d think it was an hour - he parks the car in a small lot. He actually has to circle around their destination to get to the parking lot, but he’s still kinda enjoying teasing Hermann, so he doesn’t remark upon it, and lets him stew over it right up until they walk up to the large building. Then he faces Hermann, flings his arms out, and declares “Ta-da!” dramatically. 

“An aquarium?” Hermann asks, looking up at the sign. 

“Yup,” Newt nods, proud of himself. They enter the building, and he, true to his earlier promise, buys the tickets as Hermann stands back, looking speculatively around the lobby, which is decorated with tile murals of various fish. 

“You just want to see the lizards,” Hermann accuses him.

“It’s an _aquarium_ , Herm, not a reptile house.”

“Oh, so I won’t see any crocodiles or…aquatic lizards or…whatever the hell it is you like here?”

“…there may be some,” Newt admits, smiling ruefully. 

“I knew it,” Hermann mutters, but he’s smiling a bit too, so Newt knows he doesn’t really mind. 

There’s actually an alligator in the very first room they go too, and Hermann patiently waits for him as he exclaims admiringly over it. Hermann only remarks “You do realize those would happily eat you, right?” once or twice, and that is restraint from him. Newt forces Herm to come stand with him in front of the glassed off area so that he can take a picture of both of them with as the huge carnivore eyes them balefully. Hermann rolls his eyes, and Newt manages to catch that exact moment. That’s definitely my new background, he thinks with a smirk. He makes Hermann roll his eyes again when they see some frogs and Newt, as innocently as possible, asks Hermann if they are his relatives. As well as pulling a scathing expression, he punches Newt on the shoulder. Newt is still making a show of rubbing the mark as they exit that room for the next one. 

This one is filled with huge tanks of various tropical fish, and they meander through it slowly, admiring the brightly colored fish. The cool blue light reflects on Hermann’s pale skin, making him look as if he too is some sort of sea creature. It’s fairly empty in the room, and something about the soft gurgle of the tanks and the otherworldly lighting makes it feel as if they are completely alone. When they pause in front of a tank to admire starfish, Hermann takes Newt’s hand without a word. Newt smiles up at him, but doesn’t remark upon it, because he knows by now that doing so just makes Hermann more likely to get embarrassed and pull away. He’s getting better though, he’s definitely getting more affectionate and comfortable with Newt, particularly when it’s only the two of them alone. 

Still holding hands, the two slowly wander the aquarium for a few hours, Newt regaling Herm with bizarre facts about sea life, about twenty five percent of which he makes up on the spot. Hermann is becoming really good on picking up on Newt’s lies, so he catches most of them, but Newt thinks he might have Hermann convinced that certain species of octopi can learn the basics of sign language. Which would actually be fucking awesome if it was true. After about two hours they stop in the little rest stop with incredibly over-priced food, and Newt is astonished at Herm’s fry-eating abilities. How does he stay that skinny eating like that? Newt gives him half his own fries mostly just to see him put it all away. Then, they head off to explore the remaining portions of the aquarium. 

“This is lovely,” Herm remarks as they walk into the next area - this one full of small tanks holding various aquatic amphibians - sounding unusually soft and relaxed. Newt thinks that the dreamy expression on his face would be enough on its own to make this date worth it. 

“Aquariums are super fucking romantic,” Newt responds, feeling utterly pleased with himself. “I came here when I first moved here, and I was actually kinda sad to be alone. S’nice to have someone to bring.”

“Ye- oh my god.”

“What?”

Herm turns to him, suddenly grinning. He points at a small tank set in the wall to Newt’s left. Floating serenely inside are three small, pinkish white creatures with wide grinning mouths and pink seaweed like tendrils around their face.

“Oh my god, axolotls,” Newt whispers. “Oh my god.”

They both crowd around the tank, smiling in delight at the small amphibians splashing around. “I should have known they’d have this here, but I swear, it honestly didn’t even occur to me,” Newt grins. 

“They’re actually rather cute,” Hermann observes.

“Why are you surprised at that, Herm, I’m fucking adorable.”

Hermann rolls his eyes at him - there should be a limit on how many times a person is allowed to do that in one day - then turns to read the sign as Newt makes eye contact with one of the animals and starts cooing at it. 

“Newt, oh my god,” Hermann says suddenly, tugging at his arm. 

“What?”

Hermann starts to say “Mexi-“ and then collapses into laughter, and instead points wordlessly at a particular line on the small plaque next to the tank. Newt scans it, reading silently, _In places such as Australia, the axolotl is sometimes called the_ -

Herm gasps, “Mexican Walking Fish Geiszler,” and then he’s laughing incoherently again, occasionally giggling “walking fish,” in between gusts of hilarity. 

Newt starts laughing too, but mostly he’s admiring Hermann. He doesn’t laugh very often. Hell, he hardly even smiles that much, or at least he didn’t used to - Newt thinks to himself that Hermann seems to smile a lot more lately than when he first met him, but he doesn’t dare to point that out. But this might be the first time he’s ever seen Hermann truly laugh, and it’s definitely a sight worth appreciating, and maybe trying to commit to his memory forever. His smiles light up his face, but his laughter does it even more so. He practically looks like a different person. His eyes crinkle up so much that they practically shut, his smile crosses his whole face and flashes his teeth, he tilts his head back, he even wraps his arms around his ribs as if the laughter is trying to spill out. And yet, it’s somehow still utterly Hermann. _It’s - it’s really fucking adorable_ , Newt thinks. 

And maybe it’s just because he’s having a lot of fun, or because Herm is so cute in this moment, or that he’s never liked anyone else quite as much as him. Maybe it’s that his impulse control has never been worth a damn. But for whatever reason, when he goes to tell Herm that he loves his laugh, what comes out instead is-

“I love you.” 

The words fall crashing into the space between them, and Hermann goes still so fast that Newt would find it comic if he wasn’t too busy wondering, _did I just say that_? Hermann stares at him with his eyes open wide, mouth half open, the color already creeping into his cheeks. _Surely I didn’t say that._

“You _what_?” Hermann gasps.

_FUCK.  
I definitely just said that._

“Um,” is all he manages.

“You lo-“ Hermann’s tongue seems to catch on the word, and so he instead he says again, “ _what?_ ” His posture, so open a moment ago, has gone totally stiff, the arms that were before wrapped around his ribs to contain his laughter now defensively folded in front of him

 _I fucked up_ , Newt thinks frantically. Where the fuck did that come from?

“N-no, I mean to say, um I just - I-“

“You said! I, how can you, we’ve only known-“

“No no no, dude, it was an accident-“

“You accidentally-“

They’re talking over each other now, each stammering in shock and confusion. Newt is outright panicking, and he thinks Hermann is doing the same. But how do you take back something like that? And does he want to? Well, yeah, he fucking does because they’ve only been doing - this, dating or whatever - for like two months, and that is way too quick and fuck its fucking weird. But it’s not like he doesn’t mean it, and that is at least half of what is panicking him, that he does fucking mean it. 

Fuck, he fucking loves Hermann. 

Fuck.

“Okay, just shut up a second and let me explain!” he explodes at last. Hermann falls silent, still watching him with eyes that are remarkably like a deer’s when a car is heading at it at high rates of speed. “First off, I totally didn’t mean to say that, because, yes, I see how that is fucking weird. But, um, it’s…” He pauses here, uncertain of what precisely to say next. Should he admit that it’s true, even if it was accidental? He looks consideringly at Herm, who is standing so tensely that it looks as if he is about to pull a runner at any second. So probably not. “Just…no pressure, okay? Like, it doesn’t mean shit, you don’t have to, like, respond or anything, let’s just… pretend that I never opened my stupid mouth.” 

He eyes Hermann hopefully. He’s still standing frozen a few feet away from Newt, blushing furiously. Shit. Hermann is so…fuck, this could totally be the thing that scares him away forever. Goddammit. 

“…are you totally freaking out?” he asks unhappily. 

Hermann jerks his head in a sharp nod, then, seeing Newt frown, adds, “I’m _trying_ not to. And I’m not going to…to leave, or anything. I’m just…how can-“ he cuts himself and shakes his head. “I’m startled,” he says firmly. 

“So…can we just pretend that I said I lo- _like_ your laugh?” Newt asks hopefully. “Which is what I meant to say,” he clarifies. 

Hermann nods. “We’ll just put this…on the back-burner, so to speak.” 

They stand in awkward silence for a moment, both still stiff in posture and standing farther apart than normal. 

“So…where were we?” Newt says, trying to sound light. 

“Um, axolotls, I believe,” Herm responds, jerking his head toward the tank. 

“How come everything dramatic that happens to us involves axolotls?” Newt mutters.

“Because you’re an idiot.” 

“You’re the idiot that thought I was listing off aquatic creatures when I said my name,” Newt protests, with a little flash of relief, because now they seem to be bickering and that’s _good_ , arguing is what they do.

“Who introduces themselves like that when their name is also a noun? It’d be one thing for _me_ , my name is clearly a name, but no one is named Newt. How could you expect me to know that?”

“Yeah, but why the fuck would I be spontaneously naming amphibians?”

“I don’t know, you’re very odd! And I hardly even knew you then, that was only the fourth time we met, for all I knew you named random animals to every one you met!”

Newt openly laughs at that. “Who the fuck does that?” he giggles. 

“You, for all I knew!”

They’re both smiling now, and as Newt looks at him, there it is again. Goddammit, now that he’s said those words they are just fucking _in his head_. He manages to swallow them again, though, because it’s weird to say that to someone after only two fucking months of dating. Not even that, more like a month and a half. 

His expression must be weird, because Hermann demands “What?”

Newt hastily shakes his head. “Um, nope, I’m just hungry. Wanna go get a real dinner?” 

Hermann looks at him speculatively, and Newt is certain that he has after all gone too far. Herm is probably gonna ask Newt to just take him home instead, and then not call him for a few days, and go all weird and icy like he does when he’s upset, start looking at Newt like he’s a math problem instead of a living fucking person with blood and thoughts and inconvenient emotions. He hates how Hermann does that. There’s no way he’s gonna let that happen, Newt decides with sudden fierceness. He’ll force Hermann to, to deal with it, with him, to see that it’s not that big a deal, he won’t let him just freeze Newt out. 

He’s nearly opening his mouth to say something, he’s not sure what, anything to make Hermann stay, but before he can, Hermann nods and says “Yes, all right.” 

Newt can’t even remember what Hermann is responding to at first. He has to dig back through his memories to recall what he last said. “Oh! Oh, okay. Um, I know a good sushi place nearby? Wanna go?”

“It’s rather macabre to go to sushi after an aquarium,” Herm tells him in that oh so superior voice he gets. It’s all so paralyzingly normal that Newt is having a hard time following the conversation. He responds with some similarly condescending remark, but on the inside he’s analyzing the fuck out of Hermann’s behavior. He’s positive that Herm is, at the very least, pretending to be a lot calmer about this than he really is. But one of the things he has learned about Hermann is that he’s kind of scary good at lying, so there’s no certain signs of it.

As they exit the aquarium, having decided to go to the sushi place despite its “macabre” nature - and really, who fucking says shit like “macabre”? God, he’s pretentious. Newt loves that. _Shit_ \- Newt shrugs internally and decides to just accept it. He’s not running at least. That’s something. 

Now he just has to hope that Hermann doesn’t internally obsess over that for the next few days until he flips out and decides to cut ties now before it gets too serious. Which does sound disturbingly like something he would do. 

God, why can’t he ever just keep his fucking mouth shut?


	22. Up Until Now I Have Sworn To Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from The Only Exception by Paramore

February 17, 2013

Hermann is freaking out. He’s attempting not to, he’s trying to stay calm, but _fuck_. 

Newt _loves_ him?

How can he possibly _love_ him? 

He was sitting on the couch, curled up and frozen into the corner, but now he stands and begins pacing the room, tracing the perimeter. 

Newt _loves_ him. 

That is so utterly ridiculous. They’ve only known each other for - six months. Hermann pauses in his walking. Has it really been that long? Nearly six months - that doesn’t seem right, but they first met September 26th, so that does make it almost six months. 

God, it’s embarrassing that he remembers the exact date. He scowls thunderously and starts pacing again. 

Six months since they met, five months since he began to consider it as being a friendship, two months since they kissed. That’s…not so very long. How can Newt be in love with him? Isn’t that sort of thing supposed to take time? Isn’t - Fuck, he doesn’t even know how this is supposed to work, _no one’s ever said that to him before_. 

Hermann reflects that that is probably sad. Newt would certainly think it was sad. But then, _Newt loves him_. 

How the fuck is he supposed to feel about that? Should he be pleased, or horrified, or accepting or- He just doesn’t know, all he knows is how he _does_ feel. And that’s a mixture of cold panic - love, this is not just fucking around, this is not just a close friendship with sex, or merely a casual relationship; Newt loves him and that makes this rather more serious - but also this sort of fizzing…warmth. 

He pictures again Newt looking at him, blue eyes wide and sincere, half smiling so that crinkles appeared around his eyes, freckles standing out on his skin, golden in the blue light of the aquarium, practically glowing with rare sincerity as he says, “I love you.”

“Fuck!” Hermann stops dead in front of the window, staring blindly out at the street. Fuck fuck fuck. Just the memory makes his skin heat up from a tiny sun bursting abruptly into life in his chest. He feels - _happy_. It’s absolutely disgusting, really, how happy it makes him feel; there’s fear but under that is this bright, warm happiness. 

What does he _do_ about that? There’s definitely a strong part of him that is firmly telling him to run like fuck. Relationships are messy and nasty and distracting and it hurts when they end. He doesn’t need that, he’s perfectly all right on his own. He was doing just fine before Newt walked into Striker’s one warm September evening. But then there’s that warmth. Hermann is always so cold; he can’t help but be drawn into that heat. Honestly, he doesn’t really want to run away from Newt. He’s…he’s happy. Yes, he was fine before, but he’s _happy_ now.

It’s hard to admit that. The thought that any part of his well-being might depend, even a little bit, upon another human being is extremely unpleasant to him. Hermann shudders and starts walking again, in the opposite direction this time.

He’s happy and he- does he-

This is the question he’s really been trying to avoid. He unconsciously increases his pace, but he can’t outstrip the thought. Does he-

Does he love Newt?

That’s ridiculous. Of course he doesn’t. Right? Love is so- and he’s never- and how do you even know? How are you supposed to know if you love someone? There were one or two times before where Hermann fancied himself in love, but those times…went badly. He still feels a familiar pulse of anger and shame thinking of those incidents. And anyway, those were years ago, when he was much younger, and he’s no longer sure that those even _were_ instances of love, even if he had been certain at the time. So, really, what does love even feel like? How does he feel toward Newt anyway?

He frowns thoughtfully. How he feels toward Newt…He thinks of that first time Newt walked into the café, in the late evening, and he’d seemed so instantly arrogant, with his carefully messy hair and his hipster glasses and ironic t-shirt…Hermann had disliked him immediately. And then he’d been so rude. _Consider your customer service_ …what a prick. Only then he kept coming back, and at first he was even ruder, but then he’d apologized, looking so uncomfortable about it…and that day on campus, when they sat chatting on the bench, the wind pushing at his hair, and he kept making those ridiculous jokes. And Hermann couldn’t stop looking at his freckles. At him. And he kept coming back, Hermann likes that a lot, even though he doesn’t really understand. Why did he do that? Hermann was nothing but rude and sarcastic, but Newt kept coming back, and didn’t seem to mind; in fact, it was as if he enjoyed it. And he’s so clever. He gets that blazing passion in his eyes and talks for ten minutes straight about how komodo dragons aren’t actually venomous but their teeth are so disgusting that the bacteria can kill prey through bites, and he’s gesturing widely the whole time, his voice getting louder and shriller the more he talks, and really Hermann doesn’t give a damn about komodo dragons but he was fascinated by the spark in his eyes. Eventually Newt realized Hermann wasn’t properly listening and shouted at him, and Hermann kissed him to make him shut up and then Newt laughed at him. He always laughs at everything, including Hermann, and Hermann hates when people laugh at him but somehow it’s not so bad when it’s Newt. He’s so cute when he laughs. He does everything so passionately, he’s fascinated in everything, he kisses Hermann like the rest of the world ceases to exist in that moment, and explores Hermann's body just as intently as he studies rare lizards of the tropics, and the face he makes when he comes and the way he gasps out Hermann’s name. When Hermann kisses his stomach he laughs, and those freckles aren’t only on his face, they’re all over his skin and sometimes Hermann just traces the constellations he can see in them and-

Hermann realizes he’s stopped moving. He sinks to the ground, crouching on the floor and covering his face with both hands. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. _Fuck_. He swears a low, steady stream, but he still can’t stop the words forming in his mind.

Yes. Yes, he loves him. He loves Newton Geiszler. He loves his fluffy hair and his annoying voice and his dumb jokes and his arrogance and his constant movement and each and every tiny freckle. He loves him. He loves Newt. 

“I’m so fucked,” he moans. 

* * *

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“Duuuuuuude.”

“I _know_.”

“Duu-“

“Goddammit Tendo!”

Tendo leans back in his chair until his head hits the wall behind him, the front legs lifting up so he is precariously balanced on only the back two. “I can’t believe you said that,” he says, shaking his head. 

“I know, I fucking know! It just came out, I mean, where the fuck did that come from?” Newt exclaims, dropping his head to the desk and thunking it on the wood. 

“I knew you felt that way, but dang, I can’t believe you already said that. Jeez, you fuck around for months trying to get him to fuck you, and then you drop that just like that. Totally backwards.”

“It’s way - wait.” Newt sits up again, looking at Tendo with furrowed brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, normally in a relationship I would advise getting them in bed as fast as p-“

“That’s not what I mean!” Newt snaps, waving his hands as if shooing Tendo’s words away. “The first part! What do you mean ‘you knew I felt that way’?”

Tendo frowns at him, letting the front legs of his chair drop back down with a loud thump. “It was kinda obvious.” 

“What!” Newt sputters. “How can- Obvious? I didn’t even know!”

Tendo rolls his eyes and tilts his head back to look heavenward. “Of course you didn’t,” he mutters sarcastically. “You are sooo dumb, do you know that?”

Newt points at him furiously. “You- You are so unhelpful!” he yelps. 

“Maybe I’m tired of helping you morons out,” Tendo sighs. 

“Tendoooo,” Newt whines. “Come onnnn.” 

“You treat me like I’m the sassy, less attractive friend from a romantic comedy, and I object to that. _Strenuously_. You and Hermann run around being awkward and cute at each other and getting into adorable little scrapes and misunderstanding each other, and meanwhile I stand around giving you humorous but ultimately helpful life advice and have no apparent existence outside of that, and, _no_. Plus, I’m definitely more attractive than the two of you. Combined.” 

“…I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

“I am not your sidekick, Newton Geiszler!” Tendo declares fiercely, gesturing at him with a bagel. 

“I never said you were!” Newt squawks. 

Tendo, leaning forward, narrows his eyes at him and studies him intently for a long moment, then is apparently satisfied, and sits back in his chair. “And don’t you forget it,” he says sternly, and takes a frighteningly large bite out of his bagel.

“Sure, whatever,” Newt responds with an eye roll.

Tendo chews his mouthful of bagel, and says, voice muffled around it, “So is Hermann totally freaked out?”

“I think so,” Newt says with a tragic sigh. 

Tendo flaps a hand at him in a way that could possibly be meant to be calming. “Don’ worry 'bout it. He’s crazy 'bout you.” He swallows his mouthful at last, rather to Newt’s relief. 

“Yeah…” Newt traces the grain of the wooden desk with one fingertip, then bursts out, “Okay but what if he totally panics and runs away to, to fucking Germany and never talks to me ever again?” 

His friend considers him solemnly, and pats him consolingly on the shoulder. “If that happens then I’ll take you out to a bar and we’ll pick up some hot college chicks. Or maybe some underclassmen dudes questioning their sexuality.”

“God _damm_ it Tendo!” 

“And, Newt dear, you know that if you really can’t pick anyone up, I’m always willing,” Tendo blithely continues, doing that thing where he adjusts his bowtie and smirks. 

Newt drops his head to the table again. “You’re the worst,” he wails. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Tendo sighs. “Hermann may be kinda scary, and he’s clearly a bit of a commitment-phobe, but he wouldn’t just run off.”

“Reall-“

“He’s not like _you_.”

“Tendooooo.”

Tendo pauses, and Newt lifts his head up an inch to look at him. There’s actually a bit of sympathy on his face now. “You really are pretty far gone on him, aren’t you,” he remarks.

Newt nods miserably. 

This elicits another shoulder pat. Tendo looks deeply into his eyes and tells him with the utmost sincerity, “You are oh so fucked.”


	23. All Funny In The Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words are like  
> so hard  
> to say  
> you know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song title from Birds by Kate Nash

February 19, 2013

Striker Eureka has big glass windows in the front with the name spray painted on in silver. Newt still doesn’t know why it’s called that. He ought to ask Hermann, he'd probably know. Newt is standing on the corner across the street, pretending he hasn’t noticed that the light has changed to the walk signal yet, staring at the silver letters and thinking about the name instead of deciding if he should go in today. 

It’s snowing, tiny white flakes drifting on a sharp wind. Hermann’ll be happy. Although, it’s doubtful it’ll stick, so maybe not so happy. He seems to view snow that falls without sticking as a personal affront. 

He should go in. He should go and act totally normal because they both said they would just pretend none of it happened, and that’s what Newt would do if he hadn’t opened his stupid mouth. 

But on the other hand, maybe he shouldn’t go in. Maybe he should give Hermann some space. Give him time to forget what he said. Because, after all, he did open his stupid mouth.

Newt exhales, watching his breath cloud on the cold air. It makes him want to smoke. He doesn’t smoke, but he’d probably look super cool if he did, and it seems so calming. Maybe he should start smoking. Maybe he should be a man and go talk to his boyfriend. But gosh that just seems so…hard. 

“Why’re you just standing here?” a high-pitched voice from around his elbow demands to know. Newt looks around, catches a flash of reddish gold hair, and realizes he is looking too high. He adjusts his line of sight to one more appropriate for children, and sure enough, there is Chuck, standing next to him, arms crossed, a beautiful black eye blooming across one side of his face. He looks pissed, but then, he usually does when Newt is around. 

“I’m thinking about sh- stuff.” 

Chuck is unappeased by this. “Why’re you thinking here and not in the store?” he snaps. He narrows his eyes at Newt in the deep certainty that there must be something wrong with Newt and if he only pays close enough attention he is bound to figure out what that is. 

Deciding that this conversation will be a lot more enjoyable for him if he changes the topic, Newt says innocently, “Dude, s’up with the shiner?”

The kid has a frown that will probably be impressive when he’s more than four feet. “Someone hit me,” he mutters. 

Newt suddenly recalls the conversation with Hermann from the car ride the other day and barely restrains himself from laughing. “Right, didn’t a girl punch you out?” 

He holds back the laughter, but he can’t contain a smile, and Chuck glares at him with the full fury of his nine years. “She’s really strong!” he insists. “She studies like, karate, or something!” 

“There’s no shame in getting hit by a girl,” Newt tells him, sounding more serious this time. Chuck looks doubtful, so Newt says more forcefully, “Really, there isn’t. Girls are just as kick-ass as boys, and don’t you ever forget it.” 

“Whatever,” Chuck mutters, ducking his head. 

“What are you doing out here anyway?” Newt asks with a sudden frown. “Why aren’t you in the café?”

The boy rolls his eyes. “I can go for a walk without getting lost, I’m not an idiot,” he states scornfully. 

“Hmm, I wonder…” Newt teases. Chuck glares at him with loathing. He probably should stop making the kid hate him even more than he already does, Newt reflects. On the other hand, he's so fun to tease...“Well, we should head in there,” he says, sighing. At this point, it’s not like he has much choice; Chuck is bound to tell Hermann that Newt was in the area, so if he doesn’t head into the store it’ll look like he was avoiding Herm. Admittedly, that is what he would be doing, but he doesn't want Hermann to _know_ that.

Chuck nods, and they cross the street together. “So tell me about this girl,” Newt says lightly. “Sounds like something special.”

His sigh of disgust is clearly audible. “She’s so stuck up,” he informs Newt. “Everyone thinks she’s so cool, just cuz she can’t speak English and her parents got murdered or something.” 

“Wow, really? That’s hardcore.”

Chuck scoffs and mutters, “Whatever.” 

“Wait, but what does that have to do with her punching you?” 

An expression of guilt flickers over the boy’s face, and Newt nods internally. He did start it then, Newt had suspected as much. Really, you don’t need to know anything about a situation to know that if Chuck is involved in it, then he probably started it. Kid’s got trouble written all over him.

“…I said some…stuff,” Chuck mutters. 

“I bet you did,” Newt responds, smirking, and then they are at the door of the café.

Newt pushes it open with one hand, and Chuck ducks under his arm, announcing loudly, “Hey Hermann, I found your dumb boyfriend!” Hermann looks up from the counter - as does the customer he is serving, looking quite puzzled - and the two make eye contact. And then Hermann instantly turns red and looks away, muttering a greeting quietly. 

As Herc scolds Chuck for making a show of himself - “Don’t you think you’re in enough trouble already?” - Newt stands in the doorway, the glass door swinging shut behind him, the coldness in his stomach entirely separate from the chill breeze ushered in by the door. He digs his nails into his palm, then takes a deep breath and strides the rest of the way into the café, sitting in his usual armchair to wait until Hermann has a free moment. 

The café’s a bit crowded, so that takes longer than he’s expecting, and tension builds under his skin for nearly forty five minutes, slowly translating into irritation. He knows that is entirely unfair, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling it. At last, Hermann slips out from behind the counter and walks over to Newt. Instead of sitting near to him, he pauses in front of him, remaining standing and not quite meeting his eyes. 

Newt says hi as expressionlessly as he can. Considering that he's terrible at hiding his emotions, that probably isn't very emotionless at all. But Hermann doesn't seem to notice, and, instead of saying a greeting, says quickly, clenching and unclenching his hands, “Um, about what…er, that thing you said. The other day.”

Newt smiles sharply. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to say, I-“ the words seem to stick in his throat. He stares furiously over Newt’s head, face turning red, throat working silently. He takes a short breath, something seeming to give inside him - resolve perhaps - and, without completing his previous sentence, he continues. “Um. Yes. That is - um. Good. It’s…” he trails off, increasing desperation in his eyes. 

Newt is confused. The only word he can really understand is _good_ , so he focuses on that one. “It’s ‘good’?”

Hermann glances at him helplessly, then darts his eyes away again. “Newt, I just mean…I don’t…it’s not bad, I don’t…I don’t mind. I…also feel…um.” 

This is not so much more coherent, but Newt thinks, with a growing sense of warmth, that he at least partially understands. “You don’t mind,” he repeats. It’s not the most glowing response, but he was rather worried that Herm would mind, so it’s a relief to hear. As for what else he was trying to say… _I also feel?_ Hm. If that means what he thinks…then that is…good. Newt turns all this over in his head, then smiles at Herm and says affectionately, “Cool.” 

Hermann looks at the ground and falls gratefully silent, and Newt looks at him, scarlet and uncomfortable. There’s those words again. He doesn’t say them this time, though, instead standing and wrapping his arms around Hermann. Herm isn’t much of one for that, despite their first experimentation with it - well, or so he says, but Newt’s pretty sure that he’s full of shit. He sure does seem to enjoy cuddling, much as he insists that he doesn’t - but he rests his head on Newt’s shoulder and lets out a harassed sigh. Newt has to laugh at that, and Hermann mutters, “Shut up.” 

They stay like this a moment longer, and then Herc calls out in a half-playful voice - but only half - “Oi, no displays of affection in my shop,” and then they pull apart, Newt smirking and relieved, Hermann still slightly flushed, and Hermann goes back to work. Newt plops back down in his chair with a sigh. So that’s at least partially cleared up. At least enough that he’s no longer expecting Hermann to run for it. And clearly he isn’t resorting to pretending that Newt doesn’t exist. 

Chuck is glaring at him again, a vengeful gleam in his eyes. “Don’t worry, kiddo, someday you’ll find someone too,” Newt assures him, feeling magnanimous in the wake of his relief. He wiggles his eyebrows, adding, “Maybe that girl from your school…?”

“Ew. Mako? No way. I _hate_ her.” 

Newt smiles. “You say that now…” he murmurs, thinking back to his own, less than friendly, feelings on first meeting Hermann. 

Herc, passing them at that moment, says darkly, “I swear, if I hear the name Mako Mori one more time…” he sighs and shakes his head. “Now her…guardian, or whatever he is, wants to meet with me for some reason. Can’t possibly be good. He wears suits.”

“What’s wrong with suits?” Newt asks, amused.

“You can never trust anyone in a suit,” Chuck chimes in, sounding as if he’s repeating something he’s been told. 

Herc nods. “Exactly,” he agrees. “They’re all flash bastards. Don’t repeat that part, Chuck.” Herc sighs one last time, then vanishes into his back office. 

Chuck smirks and mutters, “Bastards.” Newt pretends to not hear, because he’s a terrible role model. Instead, he visualizes Hermann in a suit. A sleek black suit with a white dress shirt and black tie, tight as fuck. Newt decides he wouldn’t mind Herm becoming a flash bastard. He spends the rest of the time until Hermann gets off work imagining him in various suits, and then taking off various suits, and when Herm’s shift is done at last Newt informs him with great seriousness that they need to go home _right now_. When Hermann asks him why, Newt tugs him out of the shop, presses him up against the next door building - he’s pretty sure that no PDA in the store also includes in front of the store or _on_ the store - and goes up on tip toe to kiss him very enthusiastically.

“That’s why.”

“Oh. I see. Yes. Home. _Now_.”

"You are _so_ good with words, Herm."

"Shut the fuck up."


	24. These Things Will Never Change For Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot cleverly disguised as the most atrocious fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol  
> Any opinions expressed in this chapter by certain short nerds concerning Doctor Who are not shared by the author, who, although admittedly far more familiar with New Who than Classic, quite enjoys the third doctor and his fabulous suits.

March 22, 2013 

When Newt gets to the top of the stairs, Hermann is leaning in the doorway of his apartment, staring vaguely down the hall. He doesn’t even greet Newt as he walks up, just watches him with a slightly puzzled expression. Newt stops before him, staring at him curiously. Hermann looks awful, paler than normal and slightly grey. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Newt asks.

Hermann starts, as if he was spacing out, which in and of itself is kind of unusual. He gets really focused when he’s working on physics stuff, to the extent of completely forgetting the outside world, but in the course of the ordinary day he normally stays on Earth. “Of course,” he asserts, as if the idea of him being anything other than okay is positively ridiculous. Only then, he attempts to straighten up, and sways slightly. 

“Dude!” Newt exclaims, reaching out to steady him. “You look terrible,” he adds, feeling properly worried right now. “Are you sick?” He pushes Hermann into his apartment, Herm protesting weakly the whole way, and guides him over to sit on the couch. Newt sits in front of him on the coffee table and presses one hand to his forehead, like his dad used to when he was sick as a kid.

Sure enough, he can feel how hot Hermann’s skin is under his touch. “I think you have a fever,” he murmurs.

“I’m fine,” Hermann protests, his hoarse voice and fever bright eyes making the words unconvincing. 

“You definitely aren’t,” Newt says sternly. “You might have the flu or something. Now, lie down. Do you have any medicine around here?”

“I can’t have the _flu_. I don’t get the flu! I don’t get sick at all!” Hermann insists, but gratefully lies back on the couch. 

“So that’s a no to medicine.”

Newt stands up, considering what to do. He hasn’t really ever taken care of someone that’s sick before. Hmm…well, first of all, he goes into the bathroom and soaks a washcloth in cold water, then walks back out to Hermann, and puts it on his hot forehead. Hermann sighs appreciatively, and lifts one hand to push it off his eyes. 

“Still insisting you’re not sick?” Newt asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Ok, I feel a little off,” Hermann admits. “But I’m sure I just need sleep.” 

He sighs and shakes his head. “You’re so stubborn,” he mutters. “What’re your other symptoms?”

Hermann snorts "symptoms" scathingly, and then coughs harshly. 

“Fever, cough,” Newt lists.

Hermann scowls at him, then closes his eyes and reluctantly admits, “I have a bit of a headache.”

“Nausea?” Newt asks. 

Hermann shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you, it’s, at most, a cold.” 

“Fever, cough, headache…okay, I’m gonna go buy you some cold medicine then. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Newt, I’m telling you I’m fine,” Hermann insists crossly, sitting up and glaring at him. Then he grimaces and brings one hand to his head. “Ugh…”

“Dizziness,” Newt concludes, then shoves at his shoulders and says firmly, “Lay down. Go to sleep. I’ll be back soon. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Hermann doesn’t resist him this time, which is a little worrying. He lies down, closing his eyes, and only grumbling a little. Newt frowns anxiously at him. He looks so pale, with a faint flush of fever on his cheeks. Impulsively, Newt bends down and kisses Hermann briefly on his hot forehead, then replaces the wash cloth that fell off when Herm sat up. 

“Go away,” Hermann mutters, swatting at him, and Newt grins. That’s more like it. He leaves the apartment, remembering to grab Hermann’s keys on his way out so that he doesn’t have to worry about waking Herm when he comes back. There’s a small convenience store only a five minute walk away, so Newt is only gone for fifteen minutes or so. Still, when he gets back, it’s clear that Hermann is already asleep. That must be some sort of record for him. Normally takes him forever to fall asleep.

Newt deposits his grocery bag - filled with medicine for colds, cough drops, and a thermometer, because this is all stuff a person really ought to have anyway, but which of course Herm would never buy for himself - and then quietly walks over to Hermann. The washcloth has fallen off in his sleep, and Newt picks it up and then gently places one hand on his forehead. He frowns. Is he hotter? 

He stands over him, absent-mindedly twisting the cloth, trying to decide what to do next. He should probably get Herm to take some of that medicine, but he doesn’t want to wake him up. Sleep is probably best for him anyway, right? But then Hermann coughs, a sharp, painful sounding cough, and Newt quickly changes his mind. Medicine. Definitely medicine. He shakes Hermann’s shoulder lightly, feeling oddly guilty when Herm almost immediately wakes up, looking disoriented and more tired than when Newt first arrived. 

“Did I fall asleep?” he mumbles, sitting up.

“Yeah,” Newt tells him, “Just for a bit. Sorry to wake you, but I got some medicine and stuff, figured you should take some.” 

“Oh,” is all Hermann says in response. He doesn’t seem to be quite with the program. Newt frowns at him again, feeling another pang of anxiety. 

Hermann doesn’t seem particularly willing to move, nor does Newt feel the desire to make him do so, so as Herm stares with an unfocused gaze at the Star Trek poster across the room from his couch, Newt gets him a glass of water and opens the box of cold medicine. 

“Here, take this,” he orders, putting the glass into one of Hermann’s hands and the pill in the other. 

“I’m really not that sick-“ Hermann starts to protest.

“Shut up and take the medicine, or I’ll - I’ll administer it orally,” Newt threatens. He’s not entirely sure how he would go about that, and honestly, if Herm wasn’t sick and probably contagious, he wouldn’t be that opposed to trying to figure out the mechanics - in the spirit of scientific inquiry and all. But, perhaps fortunately, Herm’s only further rebellion is an annoyed scowl. He swallows the pill without further complaint, and, under Newt’s sharp gaze, drinks the full glass of water. “It’s important to stay hydrated when you aren’t well,” Newt tells him virtuously when Herm tries to protest that too.

Hermann is more awake at this point, and seems more reluctant to fall asleep, informing Newt that it’s “ridiculous to sleep this early in the day.”

“ _You’re_ ridiculous, and it’s, like, seven. That’s not early,” Newt retorts. But Hermann is determined, and is only slightly easier to boss around when ill than when healthy. So Newt manages to compromise by agreeing to do something un-taxing, such as watching TV, if Herm will at least lie down. They end up with Newt’s laptop on the table in front of them, playing some classic Doctor Who episodes, with Newt sitting up at one end of the couch, and Hermann lying across it with his head on Newt’s lap. The fact that he consents to that is probably an indication of how shitty he feels. Newt barely contains himself from murmuring “poor thing” or something like that. Hermann would almost certainly kill him.

Hermann falls asleep again in about five seconds flat, which is pretty much what Newt was expecting - why else would he consent to watching Doctor Who? Hermann and Tendo both view it as a major character flaw that Newt isn’t a fan of the British show, but Hermann doesn't like Star Wars and Tendo only likes the reboot of Star Trek, so they can suck it. He leans forward now to switch his netflix account to something more enjoyable, only to realize that with Hermann on his lap like this, the angle to reach his keyboard is nearly impossible.

“Oh god please don’t tell me I’m stuck watching a fabulous old dude beat up anthropomorphic aliens for the next whatever amount of hours,” Newt mutters.

He is. 

After about four hours the show is starting to make sense, and Newt is sure that has to be a bad sign. Plus, he is starting to fall asleep himself, he kinda needs to pee, and he suspects that it’s probably better for Hermann to sleep in his own bed than awkwardly curled up on the couch. So, again feeling slightly guilty about it, he gently shakes Herm awake. And then, when Hermann just sort of faintly groans at him in an irritated way and refuses to wake up, shakes a little harder.

“Dude, wake up.”

Hermann mumbles “go away” in German. 

“Herm, c’mon, just wake up long enough to go to bed.”

“Sleep here,” he mutters, still in German. 

“You can’t,” Newt informs, also switching over to that language. This seems to work for some reason - at least, Hermann opens his eyes, squinting up at Newt. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he remarks. 

Newt smiles at him. “Yeah, it’s me. How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he responds, voice low and rough, presumably from coughing, which he'd been doing the whole time he was asleep. 

“You look terrible,” Newt informs him. He does. He’s still too pale, in a slightly greyish way, and the four hours of sleep did little to banish the shadows under his eyes. Newt can longer resist saying, “Poor thing.”

“Shut up,” he says, without much energy, closing his eyes again. Newt grimaces at this uncharacteristically flat response, wondering if he should maybe take Hermann to a doctor. But he can't imagine Herm agreeing to that (and does he have the money?), so Newt decides to wait until the morning to make any decisions about that.

Deciding at this point that Herm probably isn’t going to get up on his own, Newt slides one arm under his shoulder and half hauls him up. Hermann makes an indignant sound, but reluctantly sits up the rest of the way, opening his eyes enough to shoot a baleful glare at Newt from under his obscenely long eyelashes. 

Newt leaves him sitting there, figuring that’s good enough for now. He shuts off that damn show at last, thank god, and then picks up the bottle of cold medicine from where it’s sitting on the table. He’s pretty sure it’s time for Hermann to take another dose, and squints at the label in the dim light until he finds the correct instruction. As he thought, time for the next dose. He shakes a pill into his hand and gets Hermann more water. “Here you go.”

“Ugh.”

“Herm-“

“I’m taking it, shut up.” 

He stands over Hermann and watches with narrowed eyes as he downs the pill. Hermann flips him off without looking up at him. “Don’t fuss over me.” 

“You are the worst patient,” Newt says with a laugh, a little relieved. He can't be _too_ sick if he's this rude. 

“I don’t need taking care of, Newton,” Hermann informs him, then contradicts his words by trying to stand up and nearly falling over. Newt grabs his elbow to steady him. 

“Jesus, Herm, are you okay?”

“Just dizzy,” he mumbles, putting his hands to his head and leaning slightly into Newt. “I’m fine,” he insists a moment later, straightening carefully. 

“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” Newt says to him. Hermann shrugs out of his grip and determinedly marches himself to his room as Newt half worries about him, half laughs at him, and follows closely behind to make sure he doesn’t just lie down on the floor or something. His fever is clearly not improved. When they get to the bed, Hermann, instead of properly lying down or changing into pajamas, instead sort of lets himself fall face down onto the mattress, and then seems quite contented with that and unwilling to move. Newt rolls his eyes, then shoves at him until he’s more properly on the bed and Newt can tug some blankets over him as Hermann half-heartedly protests and insults him in German.

“Man, you are really stoned on that cold medicine, aren’t you?” Newt says at last, sitting down on the bed next to him. 

Hermann nods, then abruptly says, voice muffled against his pillow, in English at last, “Have I been speaking German this whole time?”

“Yup.”

“Oh. Sometimes it’s hard to tell when I’m tired…how come you know the German word for being stoned?”

“Herm, please,” Newt says dismissively. 

Hermann rolls over slightly so that he can look at Newt. “You’re a delinquent,” he accuses. 

“A what?” Newt laughs.

“You do drugs, you, you have piercings-“

“No I don’t.”

“You have tattoos-“

“I don’t have tattoos, Herm.”

Herm sort of flaps one hand at him. “Don’t interrupt me, Newton,” he says sternly, then coughs. “You have, uh, hypo…hypotheoretical tattoos-“

“D’you mean hypothetical?”

This earns him another glare. “ _Don’t_ interrupt. Hypothetical tattoos. You’re a _delinquent_. My father would be so disappointed. Although he’s always disappointed, so that wouldn’t be any different from normal. I’m not sure he’s capable of being…um. What’s the opposite of disappointed? Appointed? English is a stupid language.”

“Go to sleep, darling.”

“Mm. Okay.”

Newt waits a moment longer to see that Hermann is obeying, and then, when it seems he is, gets up and starts to exit the room. He’s all the way to the door when he hears Hermann say, his voice quiet and hoarse, “It’s not that I approve of tattoos, but…” 

Hermann has turned over, so that he’s lying on his back now, tangled in the blankets, looking at Newt with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t seem to be properly awake. “What’s that?”

“You should get an axolotl tattoo,” Hermann states, and sits up, opening his eyes all the way. 

Newt thinks that he should tell Hermann to go back to sleep, and then leave. But instead he asks “Why would I do that?” and walks back over to him. 

Hermann takes his left wrist with hands that are, for once, not frigidly cold, and taps the inside of his wrist. “Right here,” he murmurs, gazing intently at the freckled skin. 

“And why would I do that, dear?”

“Then you’d always have to see it. And think about me. And remember that you love me and that you’re mine.”

Newt feels his smile start to fade. Hermann looks so serious. And those three short sentences are maybe the closest Herm has gotten to sincerely expressing his emotions. “Getting a little possessive, Herm?” he says, trying to keep his voice light. 

But Hermann keeps that intent face, and looks directly into Newt’s eyes. “Yes,” he says. “Because...you’re _mine_. I, I love you, Newt. I really do. I don’t know why I’m so afraid to say that most of the time, because I do.” 

Newt goes a little light-headed, and his heart thuds unevenly in his chest. Maybe he’s getting Hermann’s cold. His face does feel awfully warm. “I love you too,” he breathes sincerely, and leans forward to press his lips - not to Herm’s mouth, not when he’s sick - to his forehead. It’s still hot against his skin. “I think your fever is worse,” he mutters. 

Hermann scoffs. “As if I’d say any of this if I wasn’t feverish.” 

Newt laughs, and the sparking moment is broken. “I’m glad you recognize that.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it,” Hermann insists. 

“I know, Herm. Now, go to sleep. For real this time.” 

Hermann obediently lies back down and closes his eyes. “Good night.”

“Night…love you.”

The response, when it comes, is so quiet and blurred with sleep and fever and medicine that Newt isn’t entirely sure he hears it. 

“Love you.”

It still makes his heart miss a beat, even if he did just imagine it. 

The next morning, it quickly becomes apparent that a, Hermann is much improved, and b, he doesn’t remember anything after falling asleep on Newt’s lap. And Newt is, unaccountably, relieved by that. He decides not to worry about why that is.


	25. Come On, Baby, Play Me Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metal? Alt Rock? Techno? Pop Punk? Baroque?  
> I don't fucking know but he looks good doing it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Gimme Sympathy by Metric
> 
> As if I could resist rock-star Newt.  
> Tumblr user theumelcom has actually started making a comic based off of this fic??? [cue me screaming at pitches only bats can hear] and it looks like its gonna be pretty fucking good so you should definitely check out the "stjms comic" tag on tumblr (and wow I can't believe I never thought of that reasonable and convenient acronym)  
> Mako and Chuck were originally supposed to be in this chapter and that didn't work out and I am sad. There's so much stuff going on with them (in my head) which I haven't been able to work in....

April 12th, 2013

Tendo drives a very small, well-preserved but still very old car, at high rates of speed and with a recklessness that makes Newt’s driving style seem downright cautious in comparison. He sticks his head out the window and cheerily shouts profanities at other drivers as Hermann clings to the door with white knuckles. He silently vows to never get in a car again if only he survives this trip. 

After what seems like an eternity, but - considering the surely illegal speed Tendo drives at - is probably a shorter amount of time than it should have been, Tendo parks his car outside a rather seedy looking bar. He hops out cheerfully. Hermann climbs out on shaking legs. 

“That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced,” he mutters, leaning against the tiny car.

“I say, thank you ever so for driving me Tendo, you are terribly kind, old chap, sporting of you, and I must say that secretly I’ve always found you quite dashing!” Tendo says, in an awful accent that may be meant to sound British. 

“Wh-“

“Oh, it’s nothing Hermann, no big deal, I’m always glad to _give a friend a drive_ , especially when that friend _can’t drive_ , even though he’s…you’re what, fifty? And it’s true that I’m very handsome indeed, but no, we cannot! Newt is your lover and my friend, it would be a terrible betrayal. Unless…No! It cannot be.”

Hermann stares at him. “Are you having a stroke?”

“No, you see, I’m simply demonstrating what a polite person might say if their friend gave them a ride, as you clearly don’t seem to know.”

“…ah.” 

Tendo lifts his eyebrows, crosses his arms, and doesn’t say a word.

“…thank you, Tendo.”

“There you go.”

“I’m not fifty. And that was a terrible impression of my accent.”

“But you don’t deny that you find me dashing?”

“Oh god, I deny that thoroughly.”

Tendo sighs. “I suppose that’s for the best,” he says, rather sadly. “All right, let’s go into…” he pauses and directs his gaze to the building they have parked behind. He pulls out his phone and checks the address he received from Newt, than looks up at the building again. “God, that club looks sketchy, doesn’t it.” 

Hermann frowns at the building. “I was hoping that was what clubs normally looked like,” he remarks, dismayed. It does look absolutely shady, but he isn’t familiar with these sorts of things. Normally a club is the last sort of place he would go to.

“No, definitely not. And it’s sad that you don’t know what clubs look like, and even sadder that I’m not even surprised by that.” 

They remain a moment longer, staring at the peeling walls, the smoke encrusted windows, the flickering sign, both wondering what Newt has got them into. Then Tendo heaves a sigh and says, “Well, let’s go.” 

Inside, it’s really more like a bar than a club. There are a series of tables that Hermann shudders to look at - who could eat off of those? - a low stage in one corner, a small clear area presumably meant for dancing, and an actual bar from which to order drinks. The bar is about half full of young people dressed in a way that is meant to make it clear that they do not care what they look like, and instead makes it clear that they care rather a lot. The lights are dim. There is an atmosphere that seems to suggest that the air is smoky even though no one is smoking and it has in fact been illegal to smoke in bars in this state since the nineties. Various instruments are being set up on the low stage. 

Hermann and Tendo sit cautiously at one of the tables, Tendo dusting fastidiously at the chair before he sits - Hermann suspects this is less from a horror of dirt than from a desire to protect his clothes. There is a moment of awkward silence. Hermann realizes that the only other time he has been alone with Tendo was that time in early December when the man revealed the actual nature of his relationship to Newt. 

“So…” Tendo starts, rather to Hermann’s gratitude. He’s terrible at starting conversations. If it was left to him, they would probably just sit in uncomfortable silence for hours. “D’you have any idea why Newt wanted us to come here?”

Hermann frowns thoughtfully. “He didn’t tell me explicitly, but…”

Tendo nods. “He’s started a band, hasn’t he. And this is their first gig.”

“He’s so obvious,” Hermann sighs. “He’s really awful at keeping secrets. And now he’ll burst onto that…stage, I guess it is, and we’ll have to pretend to be surprised.” 

“It’s a flaw of his. Well, some people wouldn’t think so. But you probably do. Speaking of his inability to keep secrets, why haven't you told him you love him yet?”

Hermann probably shouldn’t be surprised by now by Tendo bursting out with things like that. He does seem to make a hobby of it, and judging by that smirk, he knows damn well what he’s doing. 

_Damn_ Newt, can he never keep his mouth shut?

“Don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Hermann answers at last, voice stiff. 

With an understanding nod and a cheerful smile that don’t quite match his words, Tendo says, “I can see how you would think that, but considering that Newt is my best friend and is clearly really into you, I think that it is indeed my business to know whether or not you’re just jerking him around, so that I can act accordingly.” Leaning forward, his smile widening, he adds, “And don’t think that I won’t act accordingly.”

Hermann thinks that if he were a different person, he might find this intimidating, despite Tendo’s inferior stature and utterly nonthreatening bowtie. But it’s hard to find anyone at all frightening after growing up with his father. He can, however, understand Tendo’s viewpoint, and even sympathize.

That doesn’t make it easier to honestly confess his feelings. He still can’t even manage to say them to Newt, let alone anyone else. Honestly, he doesn't know why it's so hard. He knows that he loves Newt, he _knows_ that, more and more each day. And yet, when he goes to say it, he simply cannot commit to that degree of vulnerability. He's going to tell him though, he really fucking is. And, well, he'd _thought_ Newt knew that, although this would seem to imply that he doesn't.

How can he not know?

He pulls his mind out of these thoughts and attempts to explain himself to Tendo. “I see what you mean…I…I certainly have no intention of, of taking advantage of him or hurting him. I -“ here the words, as always, stick in his throat. 

Tendo squints at him consideringly, then leans back, seeming satisfied. “Yeah, okay, I gotcha. I believe you - or well, that shade of red you’re turning is pretty convincing.”

Hermann mutters “fuck you” in a particularly vicious tone. Tendo does not behave as if he has heard him, but Hermann suspects it’s an act. 

“Sorry about all that,” Tendo continues airily. “Just wanted to make sure. Now I can safely hand the care of him over to you.” He sniffs like an actor in a bad play and pretends to wipe a tear away. “He’s all grown up and leaving me now…”

“I think Newt can take care of himself,” Hermann says sharply.

“Oh, please,” Tendo retorts with a smirk. “I can take care of myself, I’m sure you can take care of yourself, but Newt certainly cannot - or, if he can, he probably shouldn’t be allowed to.” 

Hermann is forced to admit that this is true, and then they lapse into another moment of awkward silence. Hermann is unwilling to attempt to break this one. Conversations with Tendo are clearly dangerous things; perhaps it would be better to wait for Newt’s performance, which can’t be long from now. Damn him, why did he arrange it so that Hermann would be left alone with Tendo? He knows how Hermann feels about…people. Talking. Hermann admits to himself that it would, as Tendo pointed out before, have been rather difficult for him to get here on his own due to his inability to drive…but still. 

“I can’t believe he actually started a fucking band,” Tendo says suddenly. “He’s such a walking cliché. Example one of why he shouldn’t be left to his own devices.”

“Honestly, I’m more surprised he only just now did it,” Hermann can’t resist responding. He’d been quite startled to discover, a few months ago, that the closest Newt was to being in a band was being the backup guitarist for the band of his acquaintance - who was, to quote Newt, “a glam rock white trash douchebag.” 

Tendo snorts. “Yeah, that’s pretty fucking accurate…have you ever seen him on stage before?”

Hermann shakes his head. “You have, I’m assuming?”

A dreamy smile crosses Tendo’s face. “Yeah, once or twice…he may be ridiculous, but I gotta admit the boy has…sex appeal. He’s good on stage.”

That smile unnerves Hermann. He finds himself wondering, certainly not for the first time, just how close the friendship is between the two, and he can’t resist asking, “Have you-“

Tendo cuts him off sharply. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Hermann decides he indeed does not want the answer and subsides into silence. This one lasts until the bar lights dim and several people, including Newt - dressed in what is surely the tightest pair of pants in existence - shuffle onto stage. Newt takes up position in front of the microphone. 

“Um- Hi,” he says, the microphone blaring static. Tendo puts a hand over his mouth to stifle laughter. Hermann experiences a severe wave of contact embarrassment. 

Newt is undeterred. “We’re here to perform for you guys tonight!” he shouts cheerfully into the microphone. “We’re The Black Velvet Rabbits! This is our music! Yeah! I hope you guys have a good time!”

“The Black Velvet Rabbits, oh my GOD,” Tendo half moans, half laughs. Hermann shoots him a quelling look, mostly on principle, as he is feeling rather the same on the inside. He comforts himself with the thought that Newt probably doesn’t mind humiliating himself in front of a crowd of people, so long as those people are paying attention to him.

Then Newt starts playing. On the surface, nothing changes. He’s standing in the exact some spot, in the same seedy bar, under the same bad lighting, wearing the same ridiculous pants. He does nothing more dramatic than lean into the microphone and sing as he strums on his guitar. But- 

“Fuck,” Hermann whispers, his eyes glued on Newt.

“Right?” Tendo agrees. 

There’s something about the way he sings - and it’s shocking that his squeaky voice is attractive for music, but it is - and he sorta jumps around energetically when he dances, and he's terrible at dancing and ought to look like an overexcited Yorkie Terrier, but instead he seems to radiate an infectious enthusiasm. His eyes are sparkling brightly and it’s clear that he is immensely enjoying himself, and he’s just fucking _magnetic_. Hermann can’t take his eyes off of him. 

At some point Newt’s eyes find him in the crowd, his face breaking into an even brighter smile when he sees Hermann. Hermann can’t help but grin back, and this seems to spur Newt into an even more energetic performance, as he leans into the microphone and belts out lyrics - something about stars. 

“Told you he was good,” Tendo says.

“What?” Hermann says a moment later, without looking away from Newt. 

“Nothing,” Tendo laughs, shaking his head. He adds, under his breath, “Someone’s getting lucky tonight…” 

Hermann is far too busy staring at Newt to pay any attention to Tendo's remarks. Fuck, he really looks rather good in those pants. Hermann catches himself wondering how hard those are to get on and, more importantly, off. He attempts to dismiss these thoughts in favor of paying attention to the music. 

The band plays some covers of popular songs, and more of their own creation - and Hermann is impressed that they have any new songs considering that he’s pretty sure they’ve only been in existence for about two weeks. Newt must have had songs he had already written. They certainly sound like his style. Hermann is deeply impressed. Then, sooner than he is expecting - sooner than he wants - they are done. The performance receives a fairly enthusiastic response considering it was their first performance ever, and Newt bows several times, shouts thanks, and looks unbearably pleased with himself. Hermann is sure that Newt’s going to be impossible to deal with for the next few days, but he simply doesn’t have it in himself at this moment to mind that. 

There’s an amount of time as the instruments are cleared offstage, and then Newt comes bounding up, still riding the high of his performance. 

“So?” he beams.

Hermann flings his arms around him and kisses him thoroughly. He doesn’t even mind that Newt is covered in sweat. Newt responds with equal enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Hermann’s waist and sliding one hand down his back pocket.

“That was very good,” Hermann murmurs, pulling away enough to look into Newt’s face.

“Yeah, same from me,” Tendo agrees. “Tongue and all.” Hermann and Newt both ignore him. Or, possibly, don’t hear him at all. 

Newt smiles blindingly at Hermann, without moving an inch away. “You think? You liked it?”

“You were brilliant,” Hermann says sincerely. 

Newt’s smile grows even wider. “Thanks, babe.”

“I’m here too, you know!” Tendo calls out, impatient with being ignored. 

“Oh, right. Hi,” Newt says. “Did you like the show?”

“Yeah, definitely already answered that.”

“Oh...? Um, sure. So, were you guys surprised? Me in a band and all…you were surprised, right?” Newt asks, grinning hopefully. 

Hermann and Tendo exchanges glances. “Sure, Newt,” Tendo says.

Newt fails to notice the false tone in his voice. “Excellent,” he smirks. “Man, it was so hard keeping it secret, I’ve been so excited about this…and we got a gig so fast, cuz that other band I was playing with has played here before, so I knew the owner, and some guys cancelled on them so we got it! And Erik, that’s the bassist, he’s friends with these guys in a super legit band, they’re actually kinda popular, so Erik’s gonna try and get us more gigs…”

Newt chatters on in this fashion for the rest of the evening. They hang out at the bar a while more, Newt only pausing in his chatter when various members of the audience walk up to compliment him - Hermann has to glare at a few that behave a little too familiarly, and Tendo laughs at him - and then they split to go home, Hermann traveling with Newt this time instead of in Tendo’s tiny deathtrap, and Newt continues talking the whole drive there. Hermann marvels that he’s still able to talk after all that singing. Newt doesn’t quiet until they reach his apartment and Hermann effectively silences him with a decisive kiss. After that, there isn’t much more talking, at least not of a coherent kind. 

“Did you really enjoy it?” Newt asks quietly later, as they lay in bed, both half asleep.

Hermann nods sleepily. “I was most impressed,” he admits.

“I’m glad,” Newt says, looking gratified. 

After a moment’s silence he adds, “Sorry for leaving you alone with Tendo.”

“I don’t really mind him that much,” Hermann confesses. “But do refrain from telling him that.”

“What did you guys talk about anyway?”

Hermann gets a moment’s revenge for Newt’s discovered indiscretions by innocently saying, “You.” The room is dim, but Hermann can see he way Newt flinches and the alarm in his eyes, and he finds it extremely satisngfyi. 

“Oh? L-like what?”

“Do you really have to tell him _everything_ , Newt?” 

He’s expecting Newt to protest this, and he does, but not as he would have predicted. Instead of a vehement and clearly false denial, with wide eyes and injured innocence, Newt looks suddenly…Hermann wonders if that is guilt. Discomfort, at the very least. He says, quietly, “I don’t tell him everything.”

Hermann responds with a disbelieving “Sure,” and the conversation falls silent. Hermann wonders over that facial expression. He normally finds Newt easy to read, but he can't figure out what that expression means. He frowns into the dimness, then dismisses it in favor of a different, but related, memory of something that happened that night.

"Newt?" he says softly.

"Mm?"

"I..." he takes a deep breath. The words swim out of reach. He should just fucking say it. Instead, he says, "I'm really happy. Lately. With you." Even this admission stings at his throat. It's true though, so incredibly true. These last few months have probably been the happiest he can remember being, and he says the words with all the deep sincerity of the ones that he wishes he could say. "You know that, right?" he adds.

Newt is silent for longer than Hermann is expecting, long enough that he fills up with buzzing doubts. But then Newt says, his voice as quiet in the still room as Hermann's, "I know, Herm. Me...me too." 

This should still the nerves stinging in the back of his head. But it doesn't, somehow. Hermann falls asleep slowly, fretting over that pause, over the strange expression on his face earlier.


	26. I Started Looking And The Bubble Burst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Fuck_ Erik, man, just _fuck_ that guy, he is the _worst_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Warning Sign by Coldplay
> 
> I don't know...anything, really, about how bands work. Please pretend that my explanations make sense in this chapter. Thanks. 
> 
> About that comic I mentioned, it turns out its home blog is http://stjmscomic.tumblr.com/  
> tell your friends

May 9, 2013

In the light of the day it’s easy to not think, to not remember the sound of Hermann’s voice when he says - those things he said. Those words, those times, they belong to the darkness, to winter nights, and now it’s spring and the days are bright. Newt has always been good at not thinking about what he doesn’t want to think about, and he doesn’t want to think about - those things he said. So instead of thinking about it, he walks to the café, humming a new song he’s writing under his breath, soaking up the tentative warmth of the day. 

When he gets to the café, he muses how it’s kinda funny that whenever he walks into Striker’s he can know with a fair amount of certainty where Hermann will be. Admittedly, the café isn’t that big, and there are not so many places for him to go, but seriously, does he always have to be in those two spots? He’s always either behind the counter or in that corner with Chuck. Today is no exception - almost. Hermann is in the corner, and so is Chuck, but there is also a third person with them today, a small dark haired girl sitting to Chuck’s right. 

“Dude, they’ve doubled,” Newt observes, walking up to them. “Herm, did you spill water on Chuck or something?”

Hermann looks up at him. “What on Earth are you talking about?” he demands.

Newt sighs. He really shouldn’t have expected Hermann to get that reference. He somehow only understands pop culture references to _Doctor Who_ , _Star Trek_ (only the original series), Japanese anime about giant robots, and _Lord of the Rings_. It’s sad, really. “Never mind,” he says, flapping a hand dismissively. “I just meant that before you had one small child and now you have two.” He pulls up a chair and sits on the side of Herm that doesn’t contain children. 

The two kids look at him, Chuck with perhaps less hostility than normal, the girl with bright, curious eyes. He grins at her, and she looks startled, and then smiles tentatively back.

“This is Mako Mori,” Hermann introduces with a gesture at the girl. “She’s Chuck’s friend from school. Her…guardian asked me if I would tutor her as well.”

“Hi,” Newt says to her, in his best friendly-to-kids voice - the one that has never worked on Chuck. He wonders where he has heard the name Mako Mori before.

“Mako, this is Newt,” Herm continues. 

“He’s Hermann’s _boyfriend_ ,” Chuck interjects loudly. 

“Yes, thank you, Chuck,” Hermann snaps, and Chuck has the grace to look at least a little bit ashamed of himself. 

“Boyfriend?” Mako repeats in a thick accent - Japanese, Newt is assuming. 

“Yup,” he nods, and suddenly he has it. “Mako - isn’t this the girl that gave Chuck a nose bleed a few months back?”

“Well, yeah, but-“ Chuck begins, uncomfortably. 

“Big fan of your work,” Newt tells the girl. From the look on her face, she hasn’t a clue what he’s saying. Chuck, on the other hand, clearly does, and his glare resumes all its previous force. Damn. He should probably stop antagonizing the poor kid - but it’s just so darn _fun_. Newt always wanted a little brother to tease.

“Newt,” Hermann says in his scolding voice. Newt smiles contritely at him. Herm looks unimpressed. 

“We’re friends now,” Chuck says in defensive tones. “Mako is awesome.”

“Didn’t you hate- ow -“ Hermann stomps on his foot under the table, and he cuts himself off. “I mean, weren’t you guys…not…friends, before? That really hurt, Hermann, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Well…um…we are now!” is all that Chuck can come up with in response. 

“Friends,” Mako agrees with a solemn nod. Newt has to admit that that’s pretty adorable. Chuck looks at her worshipfully. 

“You might be being replaced,” Newt stage whispers to Hermann, who simply rolls his eyes. Chuck overhears, as Newt meant for him to, and looks deeply offended.

“I sincerely doubt it - I’m pretty sure that Chuck and Mako are plotting how to become siblings,” Hermann murmurs back, his voice, unlike Newt’s, quiet enough that the children don’t hear. Before Newt can interrogate him on this delightfully intriguing sentence, he says in a louder tone to the children, “ _If_ we can return to the subject at hand.” He sounds so much like a teacher that Newt breaks down laughing. “If you can’t be quiet-“ Hermann starts to chide, but is interrupted by Newt’s phone ringing. 

“Oh, I should get this,” he says, standing up. “I’ll leave you all to the ‘subject at hand.’”

As he walks outside the shop to answer the call, he can hear Mako chirp, “Your boyfriend is very cute, Mr. Hermann,” and Chuck say, “ _Mako_ ,” as if she just committed a deep betrayal. Which, Newt supposes, she did, at least from Chuck’s perspective. As for him, he smirks. Hell yeah, Hermann has a cute boyfriend. 

His caller ID informs him it’s Erik, the bassist for The Black Velvet Rabbits - and he still can’t think the name without experiencing a delightful shiver of satisfaction - who is calling. It’s probably band related shit, so Newt figures it’s best to answer. He hits the accept button, and is instantly assaulted by Erik shouting in his ear.

“Newt oh my god you won’t believe oh my GOD dude you’ll never-“

Newt holds the phone away from his head so as to not go deaf.

“Dude, slow down,” he shouts back into the phone. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He can hear Erik take a deep breath. “I got us- that friend of mine. In the band. The real band. Not that we’re not - He heard us, and he likes us, and he wants us to, to fucking open for them! Like, multiple times!”

“Wha- Really? Wait wait wait, really?” 

“Yeah!” Erik shouts.

“Holy shit,” Newt breathes. And then, more loudly, “Holy shit!”

“Yeah!”

“Wait, like, when? Where? What?”

“All summer! They’re going - he knows this guy that runs this club - in Berlin - and he wants us to come too! Fucking _Berlin_!”

There’s this wave rising up and crashing over Newt, he thinks that’s the best way to describe this. It’s a fucking tropical ocean wave, and he’s suspended in the warmest of teal summer waters…and then the excitement sluices off of him and leaves him shivering in the cool northern California air. “…Berlin? As in, Germany?”

“Yeah, fucking Berlin, dude!”

“…That’s… _far_.” 

“Yeah? So wha- Oh. Shit. You’re seeing that guy, aren’t you. Shit…Will he mind?”

“Uhhm. Um. I- I’ll get back to you.”

“Should I say no? Well, I wouldn’t say no, we could get so-“

“No! Don’t say no! I, I’ll fucking think about it, okay!”

“Yeah, okay man…”

“Look, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. But seriously. Think about it. Fucking Berlin. I mean, _screw_ your boyfriend, what’s that to B-“

“Bye Erik.”

Berlin. Germany. Fucking Europe. That’s so awesome. That’s so awesome and he should be so fucking pumped but - but. Hermann. Fuck.

And Newt knows he ought to be thinking things like, how do I convince Hermann to come? How do I get him to agree to long distance? How does phone sex work? But that’s not what he’s thinking. 

The May sunshine is abruptly not enough to block out words whispered on winter nights. 

_I love you Newt, I really do._

That’s - that’s a relationship. A real fucking relationship. And Hermann loves him. Hermann loves him and that shouldn’t make him feel like this.

He hisses “shit” between his teeth and slumps against the café, the glass cold against his back. 

He’s supposed to get all warm and fuzzy over Hermann loving him, he knows that. Instead, he feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suddenly tied down to this tiny café with a stupid name in a little no name college town in northern California - not even SoCal! Fucking NoCal - do people even fucking call it that? And why would they, what’s the point to naming fucking north California! - he’s in fucking NoCal and why the fuck would he be in NoCal when he could be in fucking _Berlin_!

What the fuck is he doing with Hermann? He loves Hermann - he does - but - 

For fuck’s sake, he’s only 23! And, and, what the fuck is this? Is he - it’s like he’s fucking settling down! It’s been months now, this is probably the longest he’s ever been in a relationship, and it’s certainly the most serious he’s even been about one. And that’s ridiculous! Who the fuck does that at this age! He never stopped to question it, he just went with it because Herm was - Hermann was Hermann. But maybe he should - he should be, he should be in fucking Berlin, being a fucking rock star, and yeah sure they could long distance it - if Hermann even agreed, and who knew if he would - but that’s not very-

So what, he’ll go to Berlin and go home early every night so he can fucking call Hermann and talk about the same shit every day? That’s fucking stupid. He should be going out at night, he should be getting trashed and - _groupies_ \- fuck, Newt knows he’s such a fucking piece of shit, but does he really only want to have sex with this one guy for the rest of his life? For the next sixty, seventy, eighty years!

He stands up straight and looks in the window. There’s Hermann in the corner, scolding Chuck for something, by the look of it. Hermann, who is solid and reliable, who is gorgeous and clever and funny, who is good with kids even though he says he isn’t, who makes the best coffee in the world but drinks tea, Hermann whom he could probably stay with for the rest of his life. 

He could. He really could. At this moment, he can see it all so clearly - they’ll move in together a few months from now, and Hermann will make him clean more, and Newt will make him calm down about alphabetizing things. They’ll graduate, and one of them’ll get a job somewhere and they’ll both move to that area to stay together, in some small apartment. Maybe they’ll get a cat. Newt will get that axolotl tattoo to show how much he is Hermann’s. He’ll wake up next to Hermann every morning, and Hermann will make coffee and drink tea. Chuck will come visit over the summer as an angry teenager, and only behave for Hermann’s sake. They’ll go on vacation for weekends in nice hotels. Maybe someday they’ll get married even though both of them think that marriage is dumb. Then they’ll probably adopt kids, and Newt will be irresponsible with them and Hermann will scold him and Hermann will be over protective of them and Newt will tell him to call down. They’ll get old and Hermann will have to get reading glasses and Newt will get chubby, and they’ll tell each other they still find the other attractive. It might even be true. They’ll die together in some little house out in the country and get buried side by side and their kids will come visit and cry over the graves - but no one else will. Newt will come home to Hermann every night. Every night. For the rest of his life. And Hermann will always be sitting in the same spot.

Fuck! 

Hermann is sitting in the corner. Newt always knows right where Hermann will be. Hermann is so solid and reliable and constant - but when did Newt ever _decide_ he wanted that? He doesn’t like predictable, he finds it boring, he does anything to avoid that! 

He didn’t ever decide he wanted that, he just blindly followed along because he had been happy at the moment. 

And he could almost just say - but - _I’m really happy. Lately. With you._

Goddammit, why did he have to say those things? Newt knows he said - that - first, but that was just on impulse, without thinking about it, but Hermann saying it, that just - makes it so much more fucking real. This isn’t just messing around, or killing time, or having fun - Hermann _loves_ him. That is so fucking serious. So much more than he is comfortable with. Hermann is a serious guy, Hermann is clearly not someone that takes stuff like that lightly. For fuck's sake, he can’t even say it without being high on cold medicine! Newt could try to tell himself that Hermann's inability to say it under normal circumstances is because he doesn’t really care, but Newt knows that it’s the exact opposite. He knows, he does, he understands, better than he wants to, how serious it is. Why else wouldn’t he have been able to tell Tendo? Because Hermann’s right, normally he tells Tendo everything. But that time, he couldn’t do it, because that would have meant facing how serious this has become, and considering what that means, and Newt didn’t want to do that.

But now he can’t stop.

He told Erik he'd think about it. He will. But he might-

He might know the answer already. 

He’s still staring at Hermann, he realizes. Hermann looks up and sees him there, and quirks his head quizzically. No, Newt decides suddenly, he can’t do this right now. Not when - with the kids there - no. He forces a fake smile, waves the hand with the cell phone vaguely, tries to indicate that he’s leaving, and mouths _bye_. Hermann’s eyes widen with surprise - and fuck, Newt is sure that his face must look weird - and he starts to stand. Newt pretends to not notice that, and turns to walk away. Hermann doesn’t chase him down, and that’s probably good. 

It’s probably good because he’s still uncertain and he thinks that Hermann could change his mind right now, and he doesn’t really want his mind to be changed.


	27. This Thing That I'm Saying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it better than keeping my mouth shut?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Call It Off by Tegan and Sara. The chapter summary is also a line from that song.
> 
> Fic title from Paramore's Still Into You.

May 14, 2013

When his phone starts ringing, Hermann’s initial reaction is to look around to see who’s getting a call. Then he remembers that he’s alone in his apartment, and thus it must be him. He hardly ever gets calls. He fishes the small phone out of his pocket and checks the caller idea. When he sees Newt’s name, he pauses in surprise, and then smiles.

It’s rare for Newt to call him on the phone. Normally he texts, with terrifyingly bad grammar and spelling. But Hermann is too relieved to receive _any_ contact from him to question the form it comes in. He hasn’t failed to notice how weird Newt has been lately. He’s hardly seen Newt since he abruptly exited the café five days ago, and his texts have mostly been answered with monosyllables and unexplained refusals to meet. Five nights has been enough for Hermann to confirm that he doesn’t enjoy sleeping alone. 

But he’s been trying to not make anything of it. Newt gets into _moods_ , periods of odd behavior unrelated to external stimulus, he knows that, so every time he’s felt himself getting excessively irritated or anxious, he has sternly told himself to calm down. He has been assuring himself that Newt probably just needs some time and space to work through whatever is going on in that odd head of his. Up until now, the history of the two of them has been marked with misunderstandings, and he’s determined to avoid doing that in the future. No pessimistic assumptions for him, no jumping to dark conclusions, at least not concerning Newt. Being optimistic doesn’t come easily to Hermann, but he’s damn well going to try. Besides, he trusts Newt. 

And now Newt’s calling, and Hermann is sure it’ll turn out he was right all along, and Newt will humbly apologize - actually, he probably won’t explicitly apologize, as he’s about as incapable of that as Hermann, but he will say phrases that are almost an apology - and everything will return to normal, and Hermann won’t have to sleep alone anymore. He smiles at Newt’s name on the scratched scene. He’s been lonely. He’ll make Newt almost apologize a lot, he decides. 

Hermann is so convinced that his explanation is correct that it hardly even phases him when Newt opens the call with “Hey, I…I need to talk to you.” That’s not the most encouraging phrase in the world, but Newt probably just wants to discuss whatever has been bothering him.

“What about?” he responds lightly.

“I’d rather do it in person. Um, somewhere kinda private?”

“Where do you suggest?”

“Um…hey, remember that bench, from that first time we met outside of Striker’s? How about there?”

Of course he remembers that bench. He’s always been fond of that bench - it gets nice sunlight, and it’s slightly out of the way, so he’s likely to be left alone. That time he sat and talked with Newt there, he’s pretty sure he can date first starting to like Newt to that day. So of course he remembers. "Yes."

"Cool. Bye."

"Wait- Newt-" The line goes dead. "Rude," Hermann huffs at the phone. Then he shrugs his shoulders and sets out for campus, pausing for a moment to decide whether to bring a jacket. He decides against it - it's been so warm lately.

Hermann arrives there first. He isn’t surprised - Newt exists in a perpetual state of being late for things. If he’s on time for one appointment it simply means that he’s even later for something else. Today really is a perfect May day, so he doesn’t mind waiting. Newt will come and explain why he’s been acting so strangely and then maybe they can go back to one of their apartments, and until then he’ll enjoy the day’s warmth. He closes his eyes against the bright sun and tilts his face toward the light until he feels a shadow fall across him. It’s Newt of course, he knows that before he opens his eyes, but he still remarks “Oh, it’s you,” with a half-smile when he looks into Newt’s face. 

Newt doesn’t smile back. “We need to talk.” There’s a seriousness in him that Hermann has never seen before, and all the optimism that he had been so proud of cracks and falls apart. 

Later, Hermann won’t be able to remember the exact words that Newt says. What he will remember is the cold that ices over his veins despite the spring sun. He’ll remember how Newt won’t meet his eyes, how he talks too fast, how he shoves his hands in his pockets the whole time instead of gesturing expansively the way he normally does. He remembers saying “What?” in a flat voice that doesn’t sound like his own, and Newt flinching. He doesn’t remember saying anything other than that. He sits in silence as Newt hastily explains. Later, he doesn’t remember Newt’s words, but he remembers what they meant. And he remembers watching Newt walk away, shoulders hunched, pace fast and even, sun catching on the gold in his uncharacteristically neat brown hair. 

The sun sets a few hours later. This bench has a nice view of it. He never knew that before - most days he’s either at work or home by now. He doesn’t have work today. He watches the light coalesce into reds and purples against a pale teal sky, and then fade into grey. He slowly comes to realize that he’s shivering. It takes him another few minutes to grasp that it’s due to the air temperature dropping and not the ice that is spreading through his chest. He stands up. The blood rushing back into his feet pricks painfully. It's fully dark by the time he makes it home. There aren't any stars visible in the sky. His apartment is nearly too dim to navigate. He lies in his empty bed, and he doesn’t sleep. 

_I think we should break up._


End file.
